


Christmas Lights

by Lady_Angel_Fanwriter



Category: No Fandom
Genre: Christmas, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff and Smut, Friendship/Love, Lake Placid - Freeform, Love, Richard Armitage - Freeform, Romanticism, Skiing, Snow, Sofia Milos - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2018-03-03
Packaged: 2019-03-08 07:05:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 46,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13453023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Angel_Fanwriter/pseuds/Lady_Angel_Fanwriter
Summary: Dora Morgan (Sofia Milos),  a lonely woman that life had let down in spite of her being a successful stylist, while Christmas is approaching feels her discomfort growing dangerously;  but after twenty years she meets again Trevor Knight (Richard Armitage), her teenage crush. Trevor, successful top-model, has had enough of his empty life in New York and, after his parents' death, he has decided to go back to Norvale, a small town on the Canadian border, to take a break and think...(Please mind English is not my first language, so please forgive any mistakes and oddities. Corrections from native English speakers are very welcome.)





	1. Chapter I: An Unforseen Return

 

Chapter I: An unforeseen return

 

Dora Morgan climbed the three steps leading to the patio and the entrance door, her breathing condensing in white vapour in front of her mouth; it was early December, but this year winter had already taken a firm hold of Norvale and of all the mountain area of New York State with freezing temperatures and heavy snowfalls, to the point that the resorts of the famous Lake Placid ski location, just a few dozen miles away, had opened for already two weeks now.

Snorting, Dora fished laboriously her keys from the purse dangling from her shoulder and opened the door, careful not to drop the paper bag full of provisions she was carrying in her other arm; she entered quickly and placed her forefinger on the alarm system panel that, identifying her, started the greeting recording:

“Good evening, Dora; the alarm has been deactivated, thanks.”

“Hello Mike”, answered Dora, who had nicknamed this way the computer that supervised the articulated AAL system she had installed the previous year, spending some of the money she inherited at her mother’s death; then she closed the door pushing it with her hip.

The lights had turned on automatically; Dora headed for the kitchen, where she placed the bag with her shopping and her purse down on the table, then she went back to the hall and took off her gloves, parka and muffler, hanging them all on the coat rack beside the entrance; finally she got rid of her boots and slipped in her warm fleece slippers. With a sigh of relief, she returned to the kitchen and put away the supplies between fridge and pantry; it was Friday night and she had no desire to cook, therefore she grabbed her cellphone and called her favourite take-away pizzeria, the only one that, in her small town in the middle of the High Peaks Wilderness, the largest forest reserve of the State, had a coal oven. She ordered her favourite, with mushrooms and artichokes, and they told her it would arrive within thirty minutes; satisfied, she went to the living room, where the fire in the pellet stove was blazing; she had it started through an app in her cellphone half an hour before coming home, so that it could properly warm the room and with it the best part of the house.

“Mike, turn on TV”, she said, heading for the cupboard. The computer complied while she took what she needed to set the table. She was about to put the placemat on the table, when she changed her mind and decided she would eat sitting on the couch, using the coffee table, as she often used to do with her father after her mother’s passing. Thinking of him saddened her: he had died four months before, three years after his wife whom he never ceased to miss terribly; and so Dora had been left alone. She had no siblings, and not even a boyfriend. She had lived for ten years with a college mate, in New York, but he had left her because he lost his head over another woman, and since then Dora had only had a few fleeting affairs, because none had had the capability or the will to win her trust, undermined by the heartbreak she had suffered. And yet, she had an immense desire to find someone to share her life with...

The news where on television now, talking about the cold spell that had hit the whole north-eastern part of the United States, from Maine to Michigan, to the point that part of the Ontario Lake had frozen. Bored, Dora went to the kitchen to take a beer from the fridge, returned to the parlour and sat on the couch, waiting for the pizza.

“Mike, tune in on CBS”, she ordered; promptly, the TV changed the channel to one where, in a few minutes, would air the weekly episode of one of her favourite crime shows, NCIS. She adored the surly Gibbs and the funny _mad scientist_ Abby, who were her favourite characters, and she never missed their investigations to solve murders in the US Navy.

The pizza arrived on time; Dora paid the delivery boy, giving him also a good tip – going around in this cold weather, even in a heated van, was no joke – and went back sitting on the couch to eat.

When she was finished, she awaited the end of the episode, then she made Mike turning off the TV and busied herself in washing up; she almost never used the dishwasher since she was alone, therefore she washed the dishes by hand. She was finishing, when she heard the doorbell ringing. She quickly dried her hands, heading for the entrance, where on the monitor above the door she could see who was outside. Seeing it was her best friend’s husband, who lived across the street, she opened.

“Hey there, Alex”, she greeted him.

“Hi Dora”, he reciprocated, “Sorry to bother you, but do you have some milk? I forgot to buy it and it’s too cold to go down to the vending machine...”

“Sure! Come on in a moment, or we’ll both freeze to death”, she invited him; Alex and his wife Monica had a daughter of three-and-a-half years, an adorable brat who was growing up healthy and strong for the joy of her parents, “Marissa is calling for her evening cup?”, she asked in jest, while they headed for the kitchen.

“That’s it”, he confirmed smiling; he took off his glasses, which were steaming up, shook them a moment to air them and then put them back on, “But mostly it’s for tomorrow morning at breakfast”, he added.

Dora took a bottle and handed it over to him:

“I’m sorry, you know I use only semi-skimmed milk...”

“Never mind, for once even Marissa will adjust with it”, Alex reassured her, “Thanks; tomorrow I’ll stop by the vending machine and return you the milk.”

“Oh come on, it’s just one bottle!”, Dora laughed, while walking him to the door, “Good night”, she said.

“Goodnight to you”, he responded, putting up again his hood to face the short track to his house; before exiting, Alex turned to his friend, “If you need any help with the Christmas decorations...”

He left the sentence unfinished: he didn’t know if she was willing to deck out her house for Christmas as she usually did, after so few months from her father’s passing. Indeed, Dora shook her head:

“This year I won’t put up decorations”, she stated with a sad smile. Alex nodded, sympathetic, then he opened the door and, taking his leave, he prepared to cross the street.

After locking again the door, Dora went back to the kitchen and finished washing up the few things she had used to eat, dried them and put them away.

“Mike, boot up my PC”, she said, heading for her former bedroom, which she had turned into book and video library since, after her father’s death, she had moved to sleep into the guest room. She found the computer ready – she had changed it a few weeks before and this new model was a monster of speed and capacity – and sat at the desk, where sometimes she worked on her clothes designing.

Dora was a very high-level stylist and dressmaker, first-class honours graduate at the college course of fashion and design; if she would be interested, she could work as a costume designer in theatre and film industry, but competition in those business was so ferocious she didn’t even take it into account: she wanted a quiet and satisfactory job, not a never-ending war. Therefore, in the years she spent in the Big Apple, she had worked for some haute couture ateliers; then, when she returned to Norvale after the disastrous end of her decennial relationship, she started her own business that earned her enough to live; luckily she had never had financial troubles, as she owned three houses, the one she lived in with her parents and still lived in, and the two inherited from both sets of grandparents. These latter two she had rented to local families and brought her in enough to live quite comfortably, considering she wasn’t the type to throw her money in clothes, jewels, high-end clubs. All she granted to herself was the _dojo_ – she practised aikido since her teens – and summer vacations in Honolulu. The few times she went out for dinner or for a movie with her friends – all couples, if not with family, like Alex and Monica – didn’t count.

 

Dora sighed while entering her own Facebook account; she checked first thing the twenty or so notifications the social network showed her, then she glanced over her wall. There were many people making the countdown to Christmas, with funny illustrations of Santa Clauses and elves and reindeers; looking at them worsened her sense of loneliness and a lump started to tighten her throat. As a reaction, she got irritated and, with a curse, she exited Facebook.

“Mike, turn off the PC”, she ordered curtly, standing up, “Turn on the bathroom heater and fill the bathtub with water to 102° (*).”

A nice bath would perhaps help to distract her, she thought, choosing the body wash; the previous week she had her birthday and Monica had given her a luxurious magnolia fragrance, which she decided to use now. She poured an suitable amount in the water that had started to fill the bottom of the bathtub, and then got back to the sitting room, where she was going to watch TV while awaiting for Mike informing her that her bath was ready.

As much as Facebook, even the television programmes were full of references to Christmas, also the commercials. More and more bothered, Dora flipped through the channels trying to avoid them, but there was nothing to do, every few minutes something or someone popped up to remind her that, in three weeks, it would be Christmas Day. Inside of her, conflicting feelings clashed: on one side melancholy, on the other anger.

Dora had always loved Christmas, since she was a young girl, when her parents let her feel more than ever the warmth of a loving and close family; but over the years, which brought demises and sorrow, things had changed.

Dora had received her first big blow just after finishing high school, where she had been in class with Monica and Luke: the latter had by now realised he was gay and outed it to his family, but he was rejected by both parents. Only Trevor, his by two years elder brother, had defended him, but as he was in a Californian college, he couldn’t do much and in the end Luke, by now of age, after weeks of arguing and insults, had left home. The result was a fractured family, one son in Los Angeles and the other one who knows where, a family that had never reunited. Two years before, now both retired, Mr and Mrs Knight had moved to Nevada, where fewer taxes were due, and since then their house had been empty. About Luke, Dora had never heard again: it was like he disappeared right off the planet; about Trevor, the Knights sometimes spoke: he worked occasionally as model and print model, then he made a profession of it, he earned a lot of money, he travelled a lot, he had a fiancée, he had no more, he had another one. Dora didn’t wonder that, with his looks – very tall, dark haired, with piercing grey-blue eyes – Trevor had undertook the job, nor that he was so successful with the ladies. Her childish crush was over, of course, but she couldn’t avoid to feel a sting of jealously whenever she saw him photographed with some woman, always gorgeous, nor could she avoid to feel excited whenever she saw him on some fashion magazine – obviously she leaved through many because of her profession – or on TV on some commercial. The last one, for instance, was for the prestigious perfume Hugo Boss. He was over forty now, but more handsome than ever, with a well-trimmed beard and a physique in great shape.

Monica came from a large family that had too scarce financial means to let her study; therefore, as she finished high school, she took a job as a secretary in a law office; while Dora could follow her liking and studied in the Big Apple. In college, she met Harry and it was love at first sight, so that, as soon as they graduated, they moved in together; and then it turned out as it had, with him losing his head over a 20-years-old busty blonde and had dumped her. Dora, who had put her all in this relationship, felt devastated; she left home and job and took shelter in Norvale at her parents’, where she slowly began to carve a new life. When she got over the cruel heartbreak, she began to look around, but she had never been able to find someone with whom she would build a lasting relationship. Years and years of bitter loneliness followed, while her mother first and then also her father passed; and while the years went by, the winter season festivities became more and more unbearable to her, and now she felt she hated Christmas, she loathed it truly, and couldn’t wait for it to be over, and even New Year’s Eve and Day. Monica and Alex had invited her for Christmas Eve’s dinner, but they would spend Christmas Day with Monica’s parents, with her large family made of two sisters, one brother, their spouses and a total of eight children. Hence, for Dora this would be a day of complete solitude. _So much for the family festivity_ , she thought bitterly. Tears filled her eyes, while she felt like a boulder was weighing on her chest, making it difficult for her to breathe. In vain she tried to hold them back with anger, a trick she used often: this time her sadness and bitterness were too strong and opened the floodgates, making her double over because of the pain of sobs so strong to tear her chest like sharp claws.

“Why?”, she stammered, her face flooded with tears, “Why?”

That was the question tormenting her: why? Why didn’t she find a partner who could love her as much as she would love him, why had she to be alone like a dog, why the only thing she really cared to have in her life was denied to her? What good were her financial safeness, the medals she had won in the sport competitions, the satisfactions she had from her job, the luxurious vacations, even her dearest friends, when she had no chance to share her joys with somebody? She would give up her right arm – literally – to be able to do so... she would sell her soul to the devil, yes she would... and instead, there she was, prey to the umpteenth breakdown in tears, longing for something she could not have... she would never have.

“The bath is ready”, Mike announced, indifferent to the pain breaking Dora’s heart.

“Oh, shut up!”, she shouted. She felt the morbid desire to grab and smash something; she clenched her fists until her knuckles went white, trying furiously to control herself. She appealed to all her iron discipline as a martial artist that had allowed her to reach the third black belt _dan_ and was leading her to the fourth; slowly, slowly the dark tide of despair drew back, leaving her exhausted, dazed, her face tear-streaked. Staggering, she got off the couch she had fallen into and headed with unsteady paces for the bathroom.

“Mike, turn off TV”, she said.

“Please repeat command.”

She realised she had uttered an unintelligible mumble; hence, she repeated spelling carefully the words, while arriving into the bathroom. She entered and undressed, piling her clothes on the plastic stool in the corner, then she gathered up her long brown curls in a bun, fastening them with a large hairpin, and plunged into the hot water, which the AAL system had provided to be of the exact temperature she asked for, hot but not too much. The rich scent of magnolia and the soft froth wrapped around her, while she laid her head on the moulded backrest of the tub. Sooner or later she would change it into a Jacuzzi, she thought fleetingly; but for the moment it would do.

She laid her head on the small pillow fastened above the backrest and closed her eyes.

“Mike, music”, she ordered, “Playlist _Buddha Bar_.”

The required music began to play from the two small speakers in the corners of the room, pleasantly relaxing, and Dora sought peacefulness in meditation, which was part of her martial artist background.

Music and bath soothed her. When she was finished, she went to bed and, before sleeping, as usual she read for a while, distracting her mind from sadness and taking her into the magic world of the fantasy genre she loved so much.

 

°°°

 

Trevor Knight parked on the driveway in front of the house that had been his parents’ and got off the car, a brand new, comfortable white four-wheel-drive Qashqai. He opened the trunk and took a Gucci duffle bag, then he locked the car and headed for the entrance door. He opened it using the keys the lawyer in Reno gave him when he had called to entrust him with his inheritance: his parents had been killed in a tragic accident, a truck that lost control and crashed into a bar where they were in, running over them and another patron. As in their wills they had left everything to him and nothing to the other son, who anyway had disappeared for many years, Trevor went to retrieve the keys of the houses in Norvale and in Reno, sorted out the formalities to his parents’ wills, put the Reno house on sale, gave to charity furniture, furnishings and clothes, transferred the money from his parents’ account to his; all of this in the view of going fifty-fifty with his brother, if one day he would trace Luke.

 

Then he got back to New York in order to go on with his usual life. Except that, for some time now, he was tired of his usual life.

He had begun modelling at the age of 18, just upon his arrival in Los Angeles, to help his parents paying his studies; he had a naturally elegant posture and felt comfortable in front of a camera, therefore he was immediately successful and money began to pour in easily. Luckily he didn’t got ensnared and kept a good head on his shoulders, finishing his college, even if with a lower score than he could have got if he had better applied; then many job offers arrived, the stylists wanted him on the catwalk, the fashion photographers in their studies. He moved to New York, and then came the commercials, both on magazines and TV, full advertising campaigns for the most varied things. Someone noticed his voice, a deep baritone, and they began to ask him to voice-over documentaries and radio advertisements, until he came to record audiobooks. Within a few years he was a rich man; keeping his feet on the ground, he made smart investments and now, at the age of 41, he could retire, even if his career had no setbacks at all, so much that he had been busy with the last advertising campaign for Hugo Boss for almost two months, filming one commercial after the other that would air in a period of one year. Did he like his job? Yes, in the beginning he enjoyed it, it allowed him to have a good life, to meet gorgeous and loose women; but it didn’t give him a sense of accomplishment. For years, he didn’t think about it or, if it happened, he drove it away; but now that he had passed the marking age of 40, this thing had begun to eat at him. In the past he had laughed at those speaking about doing the life review one makes at this age; now he didn’t laugh anymore, because he did it himself. And he had seen that the pair of scales sloped on one side only, the one of financial comfort and physical well-being: here, the pan was full to overflow; while the other pan, which concerned sentiments and feelings, was dishearteningly empty.

 _He_ was empty. Or rather, he _felt_ empty. He was no superficial person, quite the opposite: he was a man with deep feelings that so far had found no way to express or many people to share them with. His relationships – not that many, considering his job – had never reached the point of marriage, family, simply because he had never found the right woman. He was ambassador to several charities, mostly regarding youths, and often he used his name and face to raise money, as much as he donated out of his own pockets, but he preferred keeping this from the public. However, in spite of this task, he felt as if his life lacked of something. It lacked of his _other half_.

And now, his parents had died. He had turned away from them after they had practically forced Luke – his beloved little brother – to run from home because he was gay. Like this would make a criminal of him, or a leper. Very disappointed with their behaviour and angered, Trevor cut all the ties and, during his last college year, he managed to support himself with what he had earned and continued to earn as a model. He heard from Luke never again; he tried to look for him on social networks, but he wasn’t able to find him: if he was on Facebook or Twitter or such, he wasn’t there with his own name.

The house was cold and dark; he made arrangements for the water, electricity and gas supply before his arrival, therefore he could turn on the lights; he closed the door and, leaving his duffel on the floor, he went to the basement, where he got the boiler working, luckily with no trouble. As the radiators would need a long time to heat up the house, he returned upstairs and looked if there were logs for the hearth in the living room. He was lucky, therefore he could start a fire, then he took the plastic covers off the couch and got upstairs, looking for blankets and pillows, as he planned to sleep in the living room for the night, in the warmth of the fire instead of in the cold of the freezing bedrooms.

Upon his arrival, he had seen the houses of his street decorated for the upcoming Christmas festivities, and this had him irresistibly reminded of the infancy and adolescence he spent here. Of course, his house had no decorations, and strangely enough, also the one of his neighbours, the Morgans; but he remembered that Frank Morgan had always been among the first ones to fill up his patio and garden of lights and figures and coloured ribbons and holly garlands.

He went to the kitchen and had the fridge working, then he checked the stove. Satisfied, he got back outside to carry in the bags with the provisions. He had already dined, having stopped along the way in a restaurant, but he would gladly have a coffee, even if, with no coffee machine, he had to settle with the instant type; he found the kettle and placed it on the stove, then he put away the provisions. Looking at the layer of dust covering everything, he thought that the day after he would have a cleaning-up marathon.

He returned to the living room with his coffee; the fire had warmed the room and now the temperature began to be comfortable. He added more logs, then he took his notebook and plugged it into the nearest power outlet, sitting on the couch to check his e-mails while drinking the hot beverage. There was nothing interesting, so he closed all windows and turned off the laptop. It was quite late and he was tired by an over five-hour drive from New York, not counting the stop for dinner; he considered undressing – usually he slept in his brief-boxers only – but it was still pretty cold, therefore he decided on straying dressed and not having his usual evening shower, as the bathroom was surely a giant icebox. He grimaced: maybe he should have gone to a hotel... but sleeping again in the house where he had spent a happy infancy allured him too much. So, after getting off his elegant padded ankle boots designed by Louis Vuitton, he fluffed the pillow, stretched all of his 1’62” length out on the couch and snuggled into the quilt, closing his eyes. The soft crackling of the fire hummed him into an unexpectedly peaceful sleep.

 

°°°

 

Dora got up after 8 o’clock: even if it wasn’t a working day, she had never been able to sleep into the mornings, not even if she kept early hours, nor dilly dally in bed. She took a quick shower, then she dressed, slipping into warm velvet pants the colour of chestnuts and a soft purple sweater of mohair wool. She went downstairs to the kitchen, turned on the coffee machine, then took off the fridge milk, butter, eggs, bacon and orange juice, as well as cereals, a loaf and honey from the pantry. She prepared quickly her scrambled eggs with a nicely crispy bacon slice, then she sat at the kitchen-counter and ate them, drinking orange juice. Once finished, she prepared a cup of cereals with just lukewarm milk, which she ate while toasting two slices of bread; when they were ready, she buttered them slightly and poured on them a little honey, which she liked better than jam because it is healthier, and drank with them the excellent Hawaiian Kona coffee, her favourite brand, which she got from New York because it was nowhere to be found in Norvale. When she finished with her breakfast, she put forks and plates in the sink; casting a glance outside the window over the sink, she noticed a white SUV in the Knights’ driveway. She frowned: who could it be? She didn’t think that Mr and Mrs Knight would want to leave warm Nevada to come here and freeze, and indeed, in the two years that had passed since their departure they never did; so, was it one of their sons? Both had broken off all ties with their parents over twenty years ago, so what was one of them doing, here in Norvale?

Dora was no busybody: she hated it when someone invaded her privacy, so she avoided doing it to others. Therefore, she would keep her curiosity until she would meet the owner of the SUV. Which, besides, was identical to hers, she noticed after looking better at it. Angle and distance kept her from seeing the plate to verify where it came from, what would probably offer her a clue about the identity of the driver.

Shrugging, she left it alone and finished her coffee, then she washed and put away the dishes. When she glanced again outside, she froze: unloading the Qashqai, there was a man, very tall and muscular, with short brown hair and beard, whose shape was familiar to her; indeed, when he turned toward her to go around the vehicle, she recognised him on the spot, in spite of the over twenty years that had passed: he was Trevor Knight, her teenage crush.

Her heart jumped in her throat, missed one beat, and finally began to somersault. For one moment, Dora held her breath, her eyes wide; then she called herself a moron. It was not possible that, after two decades, Trevor Knight would still affect her so much! For Heaven’s sake, she was no teenager anymore, her eyes heart-shaped and her head full of foolish fantasies, she was now an adult woman who had overcome her ordeals, no good idea to be swept away by stupid, upsetting feelings!

“Fuck you”, she cursed in a very non-ladylike manner, but she didn’t give it a damn. Even if she had no idea about who or what she was cursing, if Trevor, herself, destiny or the gods, if there were such.

Exactly at that moment, Trevor lifted his gaze from the suitcases he was unloading and stared directly toward her. His light-coloured eyes, a blue shifting to grey, were visible even at that distance and pierced her right into the heart; again, Dora caught her breath and again she cursed, this time silently.

Trevor’s face seemed to brighten up while a smile bent his lips. A thousand-watts-smile, which she remembered well from both her adolescence and the fashion magazines and commercials he had done. She found herself responding to that smile with a gawking face.

She saw him leaving his suitcases and coming toward her.

 

°°°

 

Trevor got up pouting: sleeping on the couch in front of the burning fireplace had kept him warm, but it wasn’t the best of comforts and now he felt all crumpled. He wasn’t 20 anymore, he had to settle with it and remember it, he considered with a good deal of self-mockery.

Luckily, during the night the house got heated enough to allow him taking a shower, even if with no heater he had to do it quickly. Monday he would purchase one, unless, during his absence, a mall with Sunday openings had been built in Norvale, but he doubted it.

First thing first, he went to the kitchen; he considered another purchase – the coffee machine – and for now he used again the kettle to heat the water. He found an old aluminium pan full of bumps – he mentally added a non-stick saucepan to the list of things he had to buy – and cooked two scrambled eggs with two bacon slices, which he ate directly out of the pan with some bread; then he filled up a bowl with chocolate rice crispies, on which he poured lukewarm milk and then he ate them greedily like a child.

His appetite satisfied, he thought that, having to do the dishes, he might as well begin to clean the house starting from the kitchen. He decided he would unload his car before, hence he put on his boots and parka, fished the keys out of his pocket and went outside.

He opened the trunk and began unloading his suitcases, an expensive set designed by Gucci like the duffle bag he brought in yesterday. Not knowing how long he would stay, he brought almost all of his winter stuff, even his ski gear. While he was fastening another duffle over the largest trolley to carry them easily, he felt like a tingling on his forehead and, instinctively, he lifted his eyes.

And then he saw her.

She was looking at him from the window, long dark curls framing her face, large bright eyes, small mouth with luscious lips, slightly parted. It was a familiar face, but he was sure he had never met her.

Who was she? That was the Morgans’ house... could she be Dora, his little brother Luke’s friend? She was almost unrecognisable: when he had left for college, she was a sixteen-year old chubby girl, wearing glasses and sporting very short hair, who had almost no nerve to speak to him. He had never realised if this was out of shyness, of if there was something else behind her elusive behaviour.

Spontaneously, he smiled at her; and she responded to his smile. So, driven by an inexplicable impulse, he left there his suitcases and headed of the Morgans’ house.

 

The garden and patio, as he had noticed the night before, lacked strangely of decorations; but maybe Dora had simply had no time so far and, as it was Saturday, she would do the decoration today. He reached the door with just a few steps of his long legs and rang the doorbell. She opened immediately.

“Hi, Dora”, he said plainly.

“Trevor!”, she cried, “It’s really you!”

“In flesh and blood”, he confirmed, smiling.

Dora felt her knees turning to jelly and her stomach fluttering. She was sure Trevor knew perfectly to be very attractive – it was impossible he didn’t know, with his job and all the women hovering around him – but she wondered if he had any idea about what he did to her… what he had always done to her, since she was a girl, when at 12 she realised she had a colossal crush for the older brother of her friend Luke. Crush that she had always carefully hidden to everyone, even to Luke himself; the only one knowing about it was Monica who, very discreetly, never spoke about it with anyone. Maybe Alex knew, but she doubted it, because they hadn’t spoken about the Knights anymore, if not in occasional comments such as _I wonder what happened to Luke, I wonder how Norma and Robert are doing, I wonder if Trevor ever thinks about his old friends in Norvale…_

“What are you doing in Norvale?”, she asked, then she shook her head, “Sorry, it’s not my business… I’d invite you in for a coffee, but maybe you’d better put away your cases. Here there’s little crime, thankfully, but better not push your luck.”

“You’re right”, he admitted, “And I’d be glad to accept a nice cup, because this morning I had to settle for an instant coffee because I have no coffee machine.”

“How horrible!”, she laughed, “Come on, hurry to bring in your cases, meanwhile I brew some fresh coffee.”

“Deal!”, Trevor exclaimed, feeling happy even if not understanding exactly why, and rushed back to his car.

Five minutes later, after having hurriedly abandoned his baggage in the hall, he rang a second time at Dora’s door. He heard her voice through the entry phone, inviting him in, while at the same time the door opened silently by its own. Marvelling at this, he entered and saw her coming towards him, smiling.

“Put your jacket on the hanger”, she told him, pointing at the coat rack beside the entrance.

“But… did the door open by its own?”, he asked, while taking off his parka and hanging it.

“Ambient Assisted Living, or AAL”, she explained briefly, “I always had a thing for this, it reminds me of Star Trek and therefore, when I had the possibility, I had installed a number of home automations.”

“Yeah, I remember you and Luke were crazy about Star Trek”, Trevor observed, nodding.

“Some things never change”, she smiled, “Come, I prepared in the living room”, she exhorted him, preceding him; unlike his younger brother, Trevor had been rarely inside the Morgans’ house, but he immediately noticed the different furniture of the living room, more modern, and the presence of the pellet stove, with a radiant fire in it.

On the coffee table sat a tray with two cups, a milk jug, a coffeepot and a sugar bowl; they took a seat on the couch and Dora poured the coffee, then she pointed to the rest:

“I don’t know how you like your coffee…”

“Sweet”, he said, reaching for the sugar bowl and helping himself, “And you?”

“Regular”, Dora answered, “Or else, I make Italian _cappuccino_.”

“I like that! Sometimes I go to Starbucks and have one.”

“Oh, but the one I prepare is much better”, she chuckled.

“Well, then I invite myself for the next time”, Trevor grinned, winking.

“Sure”, she nodded, “How long do you plan to stay?”

“I haven’t decided yet, but I think it’ll be for a long time”, he answered, sipping at the coffee, “Very good”, he declared, impressed.

“Hawaiian Kona”, Dora revealed, “I have it shipped from New York, I cannot find it here.”

“One of my favourite coffees”, Trevor admitted, then he gazed at her straightforward, “So, what did you do in these… how much… 23 years?”

Dora shrugged:

“Mostly I worked… as you did yourself. I see you often in fashion magazines, both as a model and as poster man for some advertising. With my job, I have to look at many of such magazines…”, seeing him perplexed, she realised Trevor couldn’t know about what she did for a living, “I’m dressmaker and stylist, chiefly for wedding dresses and formal attire.”

“Wow! Our professions are close, then”, Trevor commented, struck, “Where do you work?”

“My atelier is downtown. I have three good seamstresses working for me.”

“An atelier of your own? I’d say you succeeded in your job.”

“Quite enough. In New York I worked for a number of shops, the last was Noretti’s in Manhattan.”

“I don’t know it.”

“Small Italian tailor shop, third generation, very exclusive, specialised in female evening gowns. They paid well”, Dora concluded, shrugging.

“May I ask you why you left the Big Apple? Tired of the frantic life?”, Trevor enquired tactfully.

“That, too; but I used to live with an ex university mate, Harry, for ten years, and when he left me for a much younger woman, I decided to drop it all and come back to the fold, so to say. My parents were more than happy to see me coming back home, therefore I did it. As my job here was satisfactory, both on the creative end and on the financial one, I ended up staying”, she smiled, “I have clients in the whole neighbourhood. The values are not those of New York, but then, it’s much cheaper to live here.”

“I’m glad you succeeded, professionally”, Trevor stated, sincerely, “I hope I’m not out of line, but I know nothing of Norvale anymore… Your parents?”

“Unfortunately they’re dead.”

“I’m sorry!”, he cried, dismayed, but Dora made a reassuring wave:

“You couldn’t know it, and as you said, you know nothing of Norvale anymore. My mother’s passing was three years ago, my father’s four months ago.”

Trevor sighed:

“I’m sorry”, he repeated, “My parents, too, died, three months ago, in an absurd accident, a truck crushing into the bar they were in having a drink.”

“Oh goodness, that’s terrible!”, Dora cried, sincerely, “And… Luke?”, she asked in a low voice. Trevor shook his head:

“No news. I hired a private investigator, I hope he’ll trace him.”

“I tried to look for him on social networks”, she revealed, “but I didn’t find him.”

“Nor did I”, Trevor commented.

“On the other hand, I joined your Facebook page”, Dora added, wanting to distract him and herself from that moment of sadness.

“Really? Thanks.”

“You’re welcome… I pride myself with all my clients that I know you personally!”, she smiled, with a self-mockery Trevor liked very much, as it was also in him. He smiled in return:

“If your atelier has a Facebook page, I’ll gladly _like_ it.”

“Thanks, but before you do it, you should see my creations, shouldn’t you?”

“I’m sure they’re fantastic”, he affirmed. She shook her head:

“Thank you for trusting me, but I’d really prefer you doing it not only because of our old acquaintance, but because you’re convinced it’s truly worth”, she insisted.

Trevor realised Dora was very proud of her job and wished sincere appreciation, not one awarded just out of friendship.

“Okay, then I’ll come and visit your atelier”, he said impulsively. Dora chuckled:

“Better I warn my collaborators or they risk a heart attack, seeing you!”

To her surprise, Trevor looked embarrassed:

“You’re kidding me, aren’t you? I’m surely not Hugh Jackman or Brad Pitt…”

“No, indeed… you’re _better_ ”, escaped her, “I mean, knowing you personally, I know that you’re a nice person, while I don’t know about them”, she added quickly, hoping she didn’t look as much dumb as she was feeling.

“Oh, well, thanks for thinking this of me”, said Trevor, with a smile that – incredibly – looked almost clumsy. A successful man as he was, famous all over the world, certainly gorgeous and, over and above that, even smart and sensitive, as his tweets and his commitment to a number of charities, could such a man really be _shy_?

She had no idea that, indeed, he felt always awkward receiving compliments, be they about his looks or his job or anything else, because he didn’t feel he was doing anything special or important. Would he be a Nobel scientist, maybe it would be different, but he was just a model who had had luck in his profession, so much he was called a top-model; over the years, he met many colleagues who would deserve success, but didn’t achieve it for one reason or another, usually because they refused some kind of compromises, particularly of the sexual type. He had been lucky: when he still was a newcomer, he had received no proposals in this regard, even if, a small number of times, on his own initiative he slept with a she-manager or a superstar she-photographer in order to get a job; but later, when he emerged in the hard world of fashion shows and advertisement business, he was able to begin choosing what to do and with whom.

“Ahem, are you still unbeatable, on ski?”, Dora asked him, not knowing well how to get over this slightly embarrassing moment.

“I manage”, Trevor declared, “I brought indeed my gear: I’m going to rush down the ski slopes as soon as possible. I read somewhere they’re already working, is that correct?”

“Yeah, Lake Placid is already in full swing”, Dora confirmed.

“If I remember right, you, too, were good on ski.”

“I think I’m still good enough, yeah.”

“Well, what about going together? It’s boring, skiing alone.”

The invitation took her by surprise. Pleasantly. Well, it wasn’t a romantic date, but when she was a teenager, she had always avoided Trevor on the ski slopes because she knew that, with her overabundant physique, she looked very bad in a snowsuit and felt ashamed. But now it was very different. And she wouldn’t mind at all impressing him with her skills, which over the years had improved.

Seeing her hesitate, Trevor thought about the most obvious reason:

“Sorry, maybe you have a boyfriend and he wouldn’t agree, I think…”

Dora shook her head:

“No, no boyfriend”, she informed him; she didn’t tell him she had none, since Harry ditched her, “I’d love to come and ski with you, but you must know that I usually go in the early morning, because it’s less crowded, then I stop to grab a bite and come back home to have a nice cup of hot chocolate.”

“Looks like an excellent schedule”, Trevor approved, “I don’t like it, either, skiing when it’s too crowded. If you’re free, we could go tomorrow morning”, he suggested.

Again, Dora was taken by surprise; she felt as if everything was moving too fast: Trevor’s return, inviting him for a coffee, learning he would stay for a long time, going skiing with him…

Maybe it was better to slow down, she thought, feeling intimidated.

But then again, maybe it was better not losing time: for too many years now she had waited for a shred of an occasion. Maybe not even Trevor was the right man, maybe the attraction she felt for him was just the memory of her teenage yearning; but she couldn’t know it, if she didn’t try. And hence, why waiting? She had just turned 39, she was no young girl anymore, with her whole life ahead…

“Okay”, she accepted, “Departure at 8 o’clock, so when the ski lifts begin to run, at 8.30, we’ll already be there.”

“I’m in”, Trevor said; coffee was long finished by now, so he stood up, “I’d stay gladly and chat with you, asking news about the old acquaintances, but I must clean up home and put my stuff in. It’ll surely take all day.”

Dora, too, stood up.

“Yeah, I can guess”, she nodded, “If you need something – cleaning supplies, vacuum-cleaner, or anything else – don’t hesitate to ask me: good neighbours are there for this, too, aren’t they?”, she concluded, smiling.

Trevor thought she had a wonderful smile that made her look even more attractive.

“Thanks, you’re very kind; and if I need something, I’ll surely come to you”, he accepted.

Dora walked him to the door and bid him goodbye, then she got back inside; she couldn’t help but peek from the window, invisible through the curtains, and watch him while heading for his house in a slouching walk, leaving a new series of footprints in the snow still covering the driveway.

A strange feeling tightened her throat, almost as if the wings of a positive fate were softly caressing her face. Then she shook it away and called herself a fool: she couldn’t allow her teenage dreams affecting her so much, making her hope in something impossible.

Almost impossible. Almost…

 

 

 

 

(*) 102° F = 39° C

 


	2. Chapter II: On the Ski Slopes

 

Chapter II: On the Ski Slopes

 

Trevor began cleaning at a good pace; the dust made him sneeze a number of times, but he couldn’t keep the windows open for a long time in order to air the rooms, if he didn’t want to freeze. Therefore, he tried to dust very carefully. He tidied up properly the kitchen, then one after another the living room, the dining room and the small bathroom on the ground floor where in the morning he had showered; then he moved to the upper floor, where the bedrooms and other two bathrooms were located.

In the wardrobe of his parents’ bedroom, he found a few warm clothes they left behind when they moved to Nevada, because obviously, in that hot weather, they would have no need of them. When he would have the time, he thought, he would give them to a local charity, as he had done with the ones in Reno; thinking again to the terrible accident that took them away, he sighed. He had never forgiven them for the way they had treated Luke, but after all, they always did right with him and, recently, Trevor had begun to consider reconciliation; but now he would have the chance no more.

He put aside those sad thoughts and got on cleaning; the bedside rugs were surely very dusty, so he opened the window and began to shake them outside. He made quick work, so the heat in the room wouldn’t disperse too much, then he closed the window and put back in place the rugs. He was considering if he should prepare the bed and sleep there, or do it in his old bedroom, when he heard the doorbell ring. Wondering who it might be, he went downstairs, running his fingers through his surely dusty hair; looking through the peephole, he saw Dora and, pleasantly surprised, he opened immediately.

 

°°°

 

Saturday mornings were dedicated to cleaning up at Morgans’, too, and Dora did it as usual, listening to music coming from the small speakers scattered through the house, which Mike, while she moved from one room to another, turned on and off; this morning, she had Native American music playing.

While she was doing her bed, she noticed Trevor shaking rugs outside the window of one bedroom and she thought he could use a steam cleaner, which would thoroughly clean rugs and carpets; she doubted he had one at home, therefore she thought she could lend him hers. She went downstairs and took it from the closet under the stairs, then she donned boots and anorak and, the tool under her arm, she went over to her handsome neighbour.

When Trevor opened, his smile dazzled her.

“Hi!”, he welcomed her.

“Hi”, she answered, trying to smile naturally, “I saw you busy with the rugs and I thought you could use a steam cleaner to wash them thoroughly.”

She showed the tool she had placed in front of her; Trevor lowered his gaze on it and quickly considered the offer.

“Well, it’d be very good indeed”, he admitted, “The carpets are full of dust and, with all this snow, I cannot go and beat them in the garden with a carpet beater. Thank you so very much, you’re very kind!”

“You’re welcome! I do it gladly”, she dismissed the topic, “Shall I show you how to use it?”

“Yeah, you better do, each model has its own characteristics and I don’t want to risk doing any damage”, he accepted, moving aside, “Please, come on in.”

Dora did as he bid her, pushing the steam cleaner on its wheels; she took off her parka and hanged it where Trevor showed her and then they went together to the kitchen, where she showed him how to load and get the tool working.

“Thank you very much”, Trevor repeated in the end, walking her to the door, “I bring it back to you tonight, as soon as I’m done.”

“No hurry”, Dora told him, “Today I’ve no need of it.”

Trevor took her anorak and helped her donning it; pleasantly surprised by his chivalry, Dora slipped into the garment and took her leave.

Going back to the kitchen to take the steam cleaner, Trevor thought that Dora was a very kind person; besides, she was a beautiful woman, even with no makeup, with those long brown curls and large black eyes, inherited from her Italian grandparents. As a young girl, she had been overweight and sported her hair so short, its curling was barely visible, but she already had her lovely smile; at that time, he thought her shy, as much as many teenage girls, but now she looked like an accomplished, confident woman. And yet… and yet, he sensed in her a kind of uneasiness, the shadow of melancholy; but after all, he concluded, there was no wonder about it, given her recent loss.

The picked up the steam cleaner and thought about using it; he began with the carpet in the living room, then he carried it upstairs and cleaned the bedside rugs in his parent’s room.

When he finished, he noticed it was almost 1 o’clock and decided to go down in the kitchen to make a quick sandwich; he prepared a hotdog, stuffing it with ketchup, and ate it gulping down a coke. Usually he ate in a much healthier way, but today he had no intention to waste time in cooking.

Finished with it, he returned upstairs and moved to what had been his boyhood bedroom, which had stayed the same, as he had already seen the night before; here, too, he found a few clothes in the wardrobe, old garments he had left here when he came to visit the last time, not knowing he would never come back. In Luke’s room, instead, he found nothing, none of his clothes, books or other personal belongings; it was like an anonymous guest room, as if his parents had voluntarily erased all traces of their rejected son. Trevor set his jaw: did they ever regret it? How could a father and a mother cast-off a son? Wicked killers’ parents forgave their crimes: why couldn’t Norma and Robert Knight accept the fact that Luke loved men instead of women? Was it so terrible, in their eyes? He shook his head: he would never understand this kind of attitude, nor would he accept it. He wondered where Luke might be now. The private investigator had been honest, warning him that, after so many years, it wouldn’t be an easy task finding him; but he would do everything he could.

He finished his tidying up with the two bathrooms upstairs and, finally, he was satisfied. There were still the loft and the basement, but that could wait.

Rather tired, he took a long, hot shower; he washed his dusty hair and trimmed his beard. He had a few grey hairs at his temples, which often the photographers asked him to conceal with a temporary rinse; but Hugo Boss instead had wanted his hair natural, and he had kept them this way since.

Feeling _human_ again, he dressed and took the steam cleaner, willing to give it back to its owner.

 

°°°

 

Dora was in the kitchen, cooking; she had inherited the passion for good cooking from her mother, whose parents came from the Italian region called Apulia and taught her cooking delicious dishes, which she had taught in turn to her daughter; tonight, it was a very simple spaghetti with oil and garlic.

When she heard the doorbell, she turned the stove down and headed for the entrance; recognising Trevor on the monitor, she opened and smiled at him:

“Hi! Hey, I was serious today about no hurry in returning the steam cleaner…”

He shrugged, curling his lips in a half-smile that, if possible, made him even more attractive than a full smile.

“I’m finished with it, I don’t see why I should keep it any longer”, he justified himself. Still smiling, Dora moved aside to let him in with his load.

“Place it there”, she said, pointing to a corner of the hall, “Are you truly done with all the cleaning in your house?”

“Oh yeah, from top to bottom. Well, there’s still the loft and the basement, but I called it a day for now: I don’t want to be too tired for tomorrow morning, or I risk not living up to my fame of being a perfect skier”, he concluded grinning. Dora, too, chuckled:

“Don’t push yourself too hard, if it’s the first trip of the season, or the day after you’ll be hurting all over!”

“You’re right, I’ll try not to overdo it”, he reassured her, “I must also deal with the ravages of time!”, he added humorously.

“Then there’s two of us”, Dora replied, laughing. They stayed there staring at each other for some moments, smiling, relaxed and at ease with one another as if not 20 years had gone by, but just 20 days, since the last time they met; actually, they felt even _better_ , together, than two decades before, when she always felt intimidated by him and he didn’t take much notice of her.

This comfortable feeling made her say:

“Hey… if you like spaghetti, I’m about to cook now.”

Trevor gladly welcomed the invitation:

“Thank you! I don’t mind eating in company… but only if you’ll let me return the invitation, sometime.”

“You can do it”, she answered, again trying to look casual, but actually she was feeling like a 15-year-old girl, “There, take off your parka and come to the kitchen”, she exhorted him.

Trevor did as she had bidden him and then he followed her, finding her standing in front of the stove.

“Mike, turn down the volume at level eight”, he heard her say. While the music went down to a pleasant background, he asked:

“Mike?”

“That’s the name I gave to the AAL system”, Dora explained, turning to smile at him, “In honour of some science fiction story I read many years ago, so many I don’t remember the author – perhaps Isaac Asimov – where the protagonist called her computer this way, shortening the words _my computer_ to _Mike_.”

“Cool!”, he commented; while Dora reached for the spaghetti, he noticed the vegetables in the sink, “Shall I prepare the salad?”, he asked.

“Oh, thanks”, she accepted, nodding, “You can use one of those knives”, she added, pointing to the knife-holder next to the microwave oven. Trevor chose the one he thought best, then he took care of the head of lettuce.

They worked chatting pleasantly, Dora telling him anecdotes about their mutual Norvale acquaintances, Trevor relating about funny episodes that had occurred him during his job. He made her laugh telling her his misadventure during his first TV commercial, advertising a well-known tuna brand, when, having to run along a fake stream, he slipped and fell on his back in the water.

“…and after the tumble, I couldn’t stop laughing”, he said, while they were going to sit at the counter, set for two, “and all shouted, scared to death, because they were sure I had one leg broken.”

“Well, you _could_ have”, Dora observed, handing him the grated cheese, “You only need to fall in the wrong way. Indeed, one of the first things they teach at aikido is the correct way to fall, in order to avoid hurting yourself.”

They had their first forkful and Trevor expressed his liking:

“Mmmhhh good!”

“Thank you. Very often, the simpler the food, the tastier it is.”

“I agree; sometimes you eat very elaborate food that needs half a day preparation, and it’s not half so good than this spaghetti… Did you say aikido? Right, I remember you practicing it… So did you go on with it?”

“I never stopped, not even at college and later.”

“Surely you’re black belt by now, am I right?”

“Yeah, I’m third _dan_.”

“Whoa! My compliments! Do you teach, too?”

“I have the instructor licence, but I wouldn’t have time to follow up a _dojo_ of my own, so I act only as an assistant. I occasionally compete, too.”

“Ah, that’s what all those cups and plaques are, which I’ve seen this morning in your sitting room…”

“Yes, those are my trophies. I used to compete quite often, but now I slowed down because my atelier busies me too much to allow me doing the appropriate preparation.”

Trevor picked up the bottle of wine Dora had uncorked before they sat and poured the ruby red liquid into the glasses.  

“Tell me, if I may ask you: did you ever need to resort to aikido, to defend yourself from any ill-intended person?”, he enquired.

“Yes, a couple times or so… And once, in New York, I even intervened to break apart a scuffle in a restaurant I was dining with Harry”, she grinned at the memory, “I see this guy next table getting up and grabbing the man who was sitting beside him, dragging him up. Both begin to yell and shove one another, almost running over me. I jump up, trip the nearest one, the other one moves to punch me, I seize his arm and send him flying on the floor. And all this, wearing a miniskirt and stiletto heels. At this point, the other patrons intervened, and Harry, too, taking hold of the two quarrellers, who were of course kicked out. The restaurant owner didn’t allow us to pay for the dinner and he invited me to come back whenever I wanted to be his guest. I think he was willing to hire me as a bouncer!”, she concluded, laughing.

“I would’ve liked to see the scene”, Trevor commented, both amused and admiring, “Sometimes I could’ve used a bodyguard like you”, he added, shaking his head.

“To defend yourself from the hordes of wild she-fans?”, she provoked him. Trevor laughed:

“Hordes maybe not, but sometimes I had trouble, yeah.”

Dora snorted:

“There are fans with no respect. I happened to meet some celebrity, mostly about Star Trek, when I attended the conventions; I never allowed myself to treat overly friendly an actor or actress, I always politely called them _sir_ or _madam_ and I didn’t touch them unless they did it first. I remember for instance John DeLancie, a very nice and funny person, whom I met by chance in a corridor while he was walking at a loss in the convention centre; we chatted in a very relaxed way while I was leading him to the stage, and when we later met for the photo session, he even hugged me. The photographer captured the moment, with him grinning like the Cheshire Cat and I making the funniest of faces!”, she laughed, in that auto-mocking way he liked so much, “Ah, probably you don’t even know who he is, DeLancie…”

“Q!”, Trevor replied promptly, and to Dora’s surprised face, he explained, “Maybe I’m not a diehard fan like you or Luke, but I watched all the series and the movies, too. And the reboot, too.”

“Oh, great!”, she nodded, pleased, “At least, I won’t get you bored too much referring to things you cannot know”, she added smiling.

“You’d never get me bored”, Trevor claimed, sincerely, “You’re one of the funniest and full of verve persons I’ve ever met… I mean it!”, he added, seeing her frowning into a dubious expression.

“Well… thanks, then”, Dora said, hoping she had not blushed like a schoolgirl. If he would have complimented her like this when she was 16, she would _collapse_ , but at almost 40, she _could not_ behave like this, it was unacceptable, for Heaven’s sake!  

Trevor watched her intently, sensing her uneasiness; he thought maybe she had been cheated too many times and now she had become distrustful of those who complimented her.

“I’m not used to say things I don’t mean”, he assured her in a low voice. He saw her hesitate, then nodding in acceptance of his words.

When they finished the spaghetti, they ate the salad, too; surprising Trevor, Dora dressed hers with soy sauce. Curious, he decided to try it and therefore he refused the _vinaigrette_ she was offering him.

“Delicious!”, he stated, “I would’ve never thought about using soy sauce to dress a salad.”

“It was my herbalist who taught me”, she revealed, “I always had weight issues – you surely remember me as a fat teenager – and with this trick I avoid useless calories, not to mention that soy sauce is very healthy.”

“Fat? Maybe a little overweight, but not _fat_ ”, Trevor affirmed.

“Well, I wouldn’t name 11 pounds exactly just _overweight_ , but anyway, I got rid of them at 21 and after this I did – I’m still doing – everything to keep my ideal weight; I have no intention to go again through all the trouble I had to lose those pounds!”, Dora stated, humorously.

“I deal with weight issues, too, but on the opposite way”, Trevor revealed, “When I’m under stress I tend to eat too little and a weight loss of even only a few pounds is immediately evident, I look thin and ill and so I got earfuls from my manager and from the photographer, who want me permanently toned and in shape.”

“Understandable, with your job”, she observed.

“Yeah, but _having_ to eat is really frustrating, perhaps as much as having _not_ to eat in order to lose weight.”

“Perhaps”, Dora admitted.

When they finished eating, Trevor insisted on helping her clean the table and wash up, taking care of drying the dishes; finally they had a hot infusion, which Dora liked better than coffee in the evening. Finally, even if reluctantly, Trevor took his leave: it was only 9.30 p.m., but he was tired and he wanted to rest enough, in view of the skiing planned for the next day.

“Shall we go with my car?”, he asked while slipping into his parka.

“Mine is equipped with ski racks”, Dora pointed out.

“Fine, then tomorrow morning at 8 o’clock I’ll be here. Meanwhile, I thank you for dinner, and even more for the nice company.”

“Thank _you_ , it’s been my pleasure”, she replied, opening the door, “Good night, see you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow.”

Trevor nodded, then he exited and headed for home; Dora closed the door and went to the kitchen to rinse the mugs they used to drink the infusion. Through the window, she watched him walking up the driveway and toward the door; as if he knew she was looking at him, Trevor turned and waved at her. Feeling like caught red-handed, Dora stiffed for a moment, then she returned the wave feigning nonchalance. Turning, Trevor opened the door and entered, disappearing from her sight.

Feeling her heart pounding wildly, Dora got angry to herself:

_Stop behaving like a fool!,_ she harshly reprimanded herself, _Immediately!_

But she knew that one cannot order around his or her sentiments and trying was always just a losing battle.

 

°°°

 

In the morning, Trevor got up feeling in a good mood, as it didn’t happen for a long time. Whistling, he donned the ski suit, except for the windbreaker, and got down to have his breakfast. Again, he had to settle for instant coffee, but the next morning he would go and buy a coffee machine, as well as a good whole-bean coffee he could freshly grind, as he liked it best; not to mention the non-stick pan and other things he lacked.

He noticed some movement outside the window and saw Dora taking her Qashqai out of the garage – the previous evening they had laughed about having identical cars – and so he quickly finished eating, swallowed the remaining coffee and left the dishes in the sink. Was he anxious to go skiing... or to be in Dora’s company?, he wondered, while donning the technical fabric windbreaker and the wool cap in Norwegian style, red with white reindeers. Both of them, he decided. Maybe more the second one, he admitted, thinking better. He had a really good time, the night before, he felt serene and relaxed like he hadn’t for a long time in the company of someone.

 

He opened the door, then he shouldered the ski, tied together with the poles; he grabbed the bag with his ski boots, exited, placed quickly down the bag and locked the door, and finally he headed for Dora, who was already loading her gear on the other side of the SUV.

“Good morning!”, he said, a small cloud of vapour coming off his mouth, “How much does the thermometer read? It looks a bit cold, this morning!”, he added jestingly.

“Good morning to you”, she answered laughing, “Mike told me it’s 15°.” (*)

“Thank goodness I thought about putting an additive for minus 20* (*) in the windshield water! And the last fuel is of the polar type.”

“You did well”, Dora commented, rounding the car and revealing herself fully to his sight. She sported a ski suit made of black pants and red windbreaker, very simple but hugging her curves in a captivating fashion, and Trevor stared at her appreciatively.

Dora noticed his gaze; flattered and excited at the same time, she stared back at him, almost holding her breath.

After having admired her shape, Trevor lifted his gaze; their eyes met and stayed locked for long moments.

“You... look like a model of Spyder”, said Trevor at length, naming the official supplier of the United States ski team.

“Oh! Thank you”, she replied, hiding the thrill of feeling admired by him under an apparently casual smile, “You, too, look like a model!”, she added, making him grin.

“They told me so”, he replied in kind, provoking Dora’s laugh.

“Come on, let’s go”, she exhorted him, opening the trunk, “Put in here your ski boots”, she invited him. He did it and then he tied the ski on the rack, which she had unhooked on his side. Finally, they got into the car and started.

During the trip, which lasted about half an hour, they chatted a little about how Norvale had changed since Trevor left: shops that had closed down, others that had opened, new restaurants, a new residential neighbourhood and even a new hotel. The car player aired background music, great hits of female singers such as Mariah Carey, Celine Dion, Rihanna, Adele, Tina Turner, in a playlist that met also Trevor’s taste.

 

They arrived at Dora’s favourite resort just after 8.30, finding the parking lot still empty. She therefore parked very close to the entrance to the aerial lift; they unloaded their gear and put on ski boots and helmets, then they headed for the ticket office, where they got ski-passes valid for half a day. There was nobody else around, therefore the operators had the cabin leaving with only the two of them on board; when they reached the station of arrival, they got out and went outside. The weather was promising a bright sun, even if with very low temperatures; the air was crystal clear and it was possible to see into a great distance.

“I didn’t remember it was so beautiful out here”, Trevor said in a low voice, where a hint of regret blended with wonder. Indeed, the view was breathtaking, from this high place in Whiteface Mountain.  

It was apparent he was recalling the old days when, as a boy, he came skiing in this same place with his friends. Dora, who had taken him by purpose here in the most scenic ski resort in Lake Placid, felt struck by his evident emotion.

“I’m amazed each time I see it”, she admitted under her breath. Trevor looked at her, nodding to show his agreement.

“Let’s do some warm-up exercise”, he suggested, changing the subject. They did some push-ups on their knees, warming up the muscles in their legs, then moved shoulders and arms, back and neck. After a few minutes, they strapped on their skis, ready to start.

“Let’s begin with a couple of easy slopes, just to warm up better”, Dora suggested, “For me, too, this is the first trip of the season, better not starting right with a double black diamond!”, she added, laughing.

“You’re perfectly right”, Trevor nodded, positioning his ski goggles. They headed for the slope marked by a blue square, identifying it as an intermediate difficulty slope. They went downhill two times, then decided to try the first black diamond, a more difficult rate, out of the two that the resort offered. They moved therefore on another spot and started; this slope – the easier of the two – was lined on both sides by a wood, made mostly of pines and firs of all sizes, from the small saplings to the imposing centuries-old trees, all covered in snow. Caught up in the excitement, Dora dove down the slope, followed by Trevor, and the two of them merrily intersected their trajectories; then Dora found a wall – a very steep section – and slipped, however, as the expert skier, she was able to keep her balance deftly; Trevor slowed properly down to face the troublesome section, but found a patch of ice and lost his stability, ending belly-up. Dora stopped immediately, ready to go and help him in case of need, but he stood up again without any problems and signalled her everything was fine; nonetheless, Dora waited for him to join her.

 

“Are you okay?”, she asked. She had lifted her goggles and her dark eyes were expressing a slight concern.

“Yeah, I didn’t get a scratch”, he assured, “Ice tricked me.”

“Ha, if you don’t see it in time, it’s very difficult to stay on your feet”, she commented, “Me too, I flew badly a couple of times or so, because of ice!”

They resumed the ride and arrived at the bottom with no other events; when they got back at the top, they found the place was beginning to be crowded, even if most were on the blue square slope and on the even easier green round one.

“Shall we go down again and then move to the other one?”, Trevor suggested; Dora accepted, and this time none of them fell. For their fifth ride, they used the second black diamond slope, now enough crowded. One skier, clearly in trouble – perhaps he had overestimated his abilities – lost control and cut off Dora, who curved sharply aside, barely missing him only out of her skills. The unexpected turn brought her straight into the fresh snow beside the slope, which slowed her abruptly down and made her fall against a small fir of less than 2’ height. She found herself on the ground, buried in a layer of snow that had fallen from the sapling.

The clumsy skier had come to a halt, miraculously not falling, and now gaped at the trouble he caused, dismayed. Trevor, who was slightly behind, had seen everything and now rushed to Dora.

“Dora!”, he called, “Are you in one piece?”

Despite the jesting tone, he was worried: she was racing at a rather high speed before ending up into the fresh snow, and the unwanted, abrupt stop against the fir sapling could have caused her a number of injuries, such as a stretched muscle, or worse, a strain, even a fracture.

Dora wrestled in the snow covering her, fumbling with her arms to get rid of it.

“Yeah, I am”, she reassured him, leaning on one elbow, “One even!”, she added humorously, referring to them falling both once.

Trevor grinned, relieved in seeing her well.

“Wait, I’ll help you”, he offered, moving forward into the fresh snow. He held out one stick to her, which she grabbed to help herself standing up; while he assisted her, the snow under one of his ski collapsed, making him loose his already precarious balance. With an alarmed cry, he fell beside Dora.

The two stared at each other, than burst into laughter.

“Hey, are you hurt?”, the skier who had caused all shouted out. They continued laughing; unable to speak, Trevor shook his head, meaning no and that everything was fine, but the skier, feeling guilty, didn’t move and stayed there watching them.

When they finally got over their hilarity, the two of them pulled each other up and dusted off the snow. Dora’s hair was full of it, so she shook herself like a drenched whelp; she looked so hilarious that Trevor burst out laughing again, feeling his heart softening.

“What’s so funny?!”, she pretended to flare up, “You look like Santa Claus!”

Only then, Trevor noticed that snow covered his beard; he hurried to clean it off, while Dora laughed in turn.

Finally, they managed getting off of the fresh snow and back to the track.

“I’m sorry”, said the inexperienced skier who had caused them ending up in that situation, “I thought I would be capable to make a black diamond, but apparently I’m not…”

He looked so apologetic and young – maybe 18, Dora estimated his age – that it was impossible to hold a grudge against him. Even because, after all, nothing bad had happened.

“Just be very prudent and in no hurry”, she advised him, sympathetic, recalling her past experiences, “After all, we all need to learn.”

“Thank you”, the youngster answered, smiling gratefully, “I’ll do that for sure.”

 

Dora and Trevor resumed their race down; Trevor, feeling enough good, pushed a little harder and overtook Dora, sprinting at the highest speed allowed by the presence of other skier, and got to the bottom a lot sooner than her. This allowed him watching her coming down the last section with an impeccable technique, and admiring her lovely shape in all her glorious female curves. Damn, she was truly sexy, he thought.

Dora saw him overtaking her and let him go; she didn’t like particularly racing, on skis or anywhere else, she liked much more focussing on the style that, over the years, she had refined until it was now virtually perfect. When she arrived at the end of the slope, she saw Trevor standing there waiting for her and smiled secretly while a way to _get him_ occurred to her. She approached with speed, then she curved sharply and stopped, her ski levelled in what was informally called a _hockey stop_ ; in doing so, she kicked out a cloud of snow that hit Trevor, exactly the way she had calculated.

He began spitting, making it a grand scene in shaking off the snow crystals – which actually just reached his waist – and provoking Dora’s hilarity.

Laughing, they headed for the ski lift and got back up.

“Do you feel like trying the double black diamond?”, Dora asked, “If we wait too much, we risk being too tired…”

“Yeah, better go now”, Trevor agreed.

They took the other ski lift, which led them to the highest point of the slopes, where the most difficult track started; as they expected, there weren’t many people, what would allow them skiing more freely.

“We ski both at our own rhythm”, Trevor suggested, “but once in a while, who is in front stops and wait the other one, agreed? Just to keep each other in our sights.”

“That’s a good idea”, she approved.

They started; the beginning was quite easy, but then there was a very steep wall, which required great skill and a technique Dora called _ibex-like_ , consisting in literally jump for each change of direction, instead of bending; after another rather easy section, there was one full of bumps where, if one didn’t choose carefully the trajectory, it was easy going belly-up. The final section, the longest one, looked deceptively unproblematic, but about halfway there was a terrace, almost a ski jumping ramp, not very tall but, if taken in the wrong way, could provoke a heavy fall.

Trevor and Dora did as agreed, waiting for one another a number of times; neither of them suffered any tumble, even if in the end both were quite spent.

“Very nice”, Trevor commented, “but I’m exhausted.”

“Tell me about it”, Dora agreed, “I think we have pushed it too much.”

“We’re no young lads anymore”, he grinned, stretching his weary back.

Dora glanced at her watch.

“We could go back up and relax with a couple of easy slopes, then we can go to lunch”, she suggested.

“Excellent idea”, Trevor approved.

So they did, climbing the first section of the ski lift and skiing on the blue square slopes, going very carefully because they were now heavily crowded. They decided to stop sometimes after 1 p.m.; they took off their skis and left them with their sticks in the dedicated padlocked rack, then they headed for the restaurant. The tables were already all full, hence they sat at the counter.

“Hi Dora”, the waitress greeted her; she was a beautiful woman in her early sixties, who worked there since forever, “Nice to see you. How are you?”

“Hi Kelly! I’m fine, thanks, and you?”

“I can’t complain”, Kelly glanced at Dora’s companion, “I’ll be darned if this isn’t Trevor Knight!”

“Hello”, he greeted her, a little embarrassed because he didn’t remember who she was while, apparently, he had to know her, “Yeah, that’s me.”

“Fed up with the Great Apple?”, she asked, handing them the menus, “Anyway it’s nice to see the town’s idol’s back. You’re Norvale’s hero, you know, don’t you?”

“Really? That’s good to know…”

“Well, now don’t flatter yourself, boy”, Kelly admonished him laughing. He shook his head, smiling:

“It won’t happen, I assure you.”

“So, I leave you choosing what you like to have”, she concluded, going taking care of other patrons.

“What will you have?”, Trevor asked Dora, glancing at the menu, which offered both dishes and sandwiches.

“If you’re very hungry, they cook some phenomenal grilled steaks”, she answered, “but I usually have only a sandwich, as I always have a full breakfast in the view of the physical effort of skiing.”

“I did the same”, Trevor revealed, “therefore I think me too, I’ll set for a sandwich. And as a drink?”

“For me, a nice hot tea to warm up my stomach.”

“I’m tempted by a beer, but it’s actually too cold”, Trevor admitted, “I follow our example in this, too.”

They chose their favourite sandwiches – grilled chicken breast and a crispy slice of bacon for her, cold roast beef and sauerkraut for him – then they beckoned Kelly.

When the lady had come and gone, Trevor leaned over to Dora.

“I’m sorry, but I cannot recall who she is, this Mrs Kelly”, he confessed in a low voice. His sudden closeness made her feel a wave of heat as if she would standing in front of a bonfire.

“Pat Granger’s wife”, she answered, hoping her tone would sound completely casual, “the Shell service station operator down our street.”

Trevor, too, had felt hot in going so close to Dora; the feeling thrilled him, and he tried to focus back on what they were talking about.

“Oh gosh, yeah!”, he exclaimed, straightening his back again, “I remember her as a redhead, with long hair, now with those short white curls and the glasses I couldn’t place her.”

He had had some trouble in recognising Dora, too, for that matter, he considered; time changes people’s looks, of course, but in some more than in others: he had identified Dora almost immediately, while for Kelly he needed someone telling him.

Kelly came back shortly afterwards with a steaming teapot and two mugs, which she left in front of them. Chivalrously, Trevor poured the amber-coloured beverage for Dora, then for himself, and then glanced at the tray, perplexed.

“No sugar”, he observed.

“No, because they serve the tea ready to drink, with sugar and some spices”, she explained, “A secret recipe of them”, she added, “Try it, it’s excellent; but if you want more sugar, you have only to ask for it.”

Trevor tasted it, then he shook his head:

“No, I’d say it’s perfect as it is. Mmmhh, I think there’s cinnamon… and nutmeg.”

“That’s right”, Dora confirmed, “As well as star anise and orange and lemon peel, but what else, I don’t know. And Kelly isn’t willing to reveal her secret”, she concluded, smiling, “She likes being mysterious…”

“Do you, too, have a secret recipe?”, Trevor enquired.

“Sure!”, she smiled, “My mom’s chocolate cake; she inherited it from my granny. They say it’s better than the famous Viennese _Sacher Torte_!”, she concluded proudly.

“I hope there’ll be a chance for me to try it… I’m crazy about chocolate, in all possible ways.”

“I remember you and Luke competing about who would eat more chocolate ice-cream, and once you both got sick because you ate too much.”

“Oh gosh, I almost forgot it… What a terrible pain in the belly! I never _ever_ did something like that”, Trevor laughed, “The lesson was good enough for me.”

“Anyway, at Christmas I always bake one”, Dora declared. Just the moment before, she had no intention to bake any type of sweets, this year, as much as she had no intention to decorate her house, neither inside nor outside; but when Trevor had told her he would like to taste her mother’s and grandmother’s chocolate cake, it simply slipped out of her mouth. Yeah, and then there is always the saying that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach…

“Well, I invite myself along”, Trevor said, chuckling.

“No need for it, I invite you properly”, she replied promptly, ignoring forcefully her heart, which was pounding hard in her chest.

“Fine, so I feel less guilty”, he concluded, still laughing.

At that moment, the sandwiches arrived.

“Enjoy your meal, kids”, Kelly smiled. She knew them since they were children; to her they would always be _kids_ , even if they were forty by now.

When they finished their meal, which, even if simple, hadn’t been very moderate at all, given the size of the sandwiches, they sipped their tea, then they got up in turn to use the toilet.

Kelly saw that Trevor was gone and took the opportunity to speak with Dora again.

“What a hottie”, she commented, referring obviously to Trevor, “I see you’re going well along, I spotted you laughing together, very relaxed…”

She had been a very good friend to Amy, Dora’s mother; she loved her like a daughter, and was sorry about her loneliness.

“Yeah, he’s a handsome man”, Dora admitted, frowning defensively, “but there’s nothing going on between us, only an old friendship being renewed.”

Kelly didn’t let it up.

“Well, if you say so… Maybe I’m wrong, but to me, it does look different”, at Dora’s warning glare, she rose her hands in a relenting gesture, “I’m just saying, because you’d make a gorgeous couple.”

“He lives in New York”, the younger woman pointed out, “I don’t think he plans to move to Norvale, what would he do, here?”

“You could go back to New York”, Kelly replied, unperturbed, “With your job, you can go everywhere you fancy to.”

“I like it, here”, Dora insisted.

“Do you mean you wouldn’t go to the end of the world, for love?”, the elderly lady asked in a quiet tone. She knew perfectly the answer, and indeed, she saw Dora start.

Dora had no strength to reply, sure that her voice would tremble. _Of course,_ she would go to the end of the world, for love. She would move to the South Pole, or to the Gobi Desert, if necessary. But would it be worth it, for Trevor? Assuming something would start between them, that is.

Trevor got back at that moment; knowing nothing about his companion’s nervousness, he asked for the bill and insisted on paying it, in reward of her ride.

“Well, this means next time we’ll come with your car and I pay for lunch”, Dora warned him; too late did she realise this sounded like an invitation to go out together again. _So, what’s the matter?_ , she tried to tell herself, _This is the 21 st century, a woman can surely invite a man for a date!_

“We’ll do exactly that”, Trevor confirmed, happy about the idea of another date with her. Dora exhaled the breath she didn’t even notice having held.

“Then it’s okay”, she concluded, putting away the wallet in her bum-bag.

They said goodbye to Kelly and exited; after taking back their skis, they headed for the aerial lift and waited for it. The cabin arrived a few minutes later, packed with people, and it departed, like in the early morning, with just the two of them on board.

“Did you have fun?”, Dora asked while they were going downhill.

“Very much”, Trevor stated, “Over the years, I’ve been skiing in many famous locations, such as Aspen and Mammoth Mountain, or Davos in Switzerland and the Arlberg in Austria, but here… here it’s home. No place will ever be better than this”, he concluded under his breath. It was the second time during this day that he felt his throat tighten, realising how much, actually, he had missed the locations of his infancy and early youth.

“You’re so right”, Dora confirmed, she, too, speaking in a low voice, “I realised it, me too, when I came back.”

Nonetheless, as much as she could love the place she was born in, she would give it up, for the love of a partner. She would give up much more, if necessary. On a rational level, she knew it was _wrong_ , because it was unfair giving up herself for this; but her love life, so solitary, was by now too unbearable for her to let rationality prevail. She could but hope not falling into the trap of a dishonest man. However, she didn’t think Trevor could be a dishonest man; having always followed him, on magazines at the beginning and then on social networks, she knew he was involved in charities in favour of the younger people, and this spoke volumes about him.

Trevor seemed to shake off his thoughts and hauled her that thousand-watts-smile of his.

“The programme envisages some hot chocolate, if I’m not wrong”, he said, arching his brow and taking on a funny quizzical look.

“That’s right!”, Dora laughed, pleased that he remembered it and would want to share it with her, “I use an ordinary supermarket brand, but I add some cinnamon and rum, as my granny did – the other one, from my father’s side, not the one of the chocolate cake. You’ll see, it cheers up even a dead man!”

This phrasing got Trevor laughing heartily while the cabin was arriving at destination. They got off and headed for Dora’s SUV; they loaded ski and boots before getting in and finally left for Norvale.

 

 

 

(*) 15° F = -9.5° C; -20° F = -29° C

 


	3. Chapter III: Hot chocolate, coffee and things like that

 

Chapter III: Hot chocolate, coffee and things like that

Shortly after 3 o’clock, Dora parked her Qashqai in front of her house. They unloaded their gear; Trevor brought it directly home, then he went to Dora’s for their hot chocolate.

  
Passing through the living room, Trevor watched the pellet stove, where a nice fire blazed, and pondered about the benefits of this heating system, programmable like central heating but much cheaper; not to mention the more pleasant and healthier warmth it produced. In this case, when they left the ski resort, Dora had started the stove via phone app, so arriving they would find the house already nicely warm. He thought he, too, could have such a stove installed and decided to talk about it with Dora.  
In the kitchen, Dora invited him to sit at the counter, while she busied herself preparing the hot cocoa.  
“I’m thinking about buying a pellet stove, me too”, Trevor began, “What do you say?”  
“I say it’s an excellent idea”, she approved, adding the cinnamon to the mixture for the sweet beverage, “I went to Larry Cahill’s, in Marston Street, and I was satisfied: they came for an inspection, so they advised me about the best stove type”, she reflected briefly, “You can position it beside the fireplace, so you can benefit of the chimney. Or, if you’re not interested in keeping the fireplace in its function, you can get the stove installed inside of it.”  
“They install stoves inside hearths?”, he asked, dumbfounded.   
“Yes, it’s a nice way to avoid large stonework to take away the hearth and make room for the stove.”  
“Not a bad idea at all”, Trevor nodded, “I’ll go there, too, and ask for an advice.”  
Dora placed the small pot on the stove and began slowly pouring in the cinnamon-enriched mixture, stirring it carefully with a whisk. She had her back turned to him, so Trevor could watch her conveniently; besides her pleasant shape, still hugged in the tight black salopettes sported over a sweater of the same red as the windbreaker, he liked the way she moved, at the same time graceful and confident, surely due to the many years of martial art practice that – he knew it first-hand, because he himself had karate classes for some time, at college – gave a perfect awareness of the body and of the space around it. With a professional eye, Trevor considered that, with her physique and elegant movements, she could easily parade on a catwalk with his female colleagues.   
He realised she had spoken but, engrossed in his thoughts, he didn’t hear what she had said.  
“Sorry? Excuse me, I was distracted…”  
“Do you want some sugar in the chocolate?”, Dora repeated, turning her head without stopping stirring, “I usually don’t add any, so the taste of cinnamon stands out better, which is already sweet in itself; but if you like so, you can add it in your mug.”  
“I’ll try it without, I can always add it later”, Trevor decided.  
“Okay”, she nodded, focussing again on the beverage; even into the non-stick pot, it had a tendency to stick and become scorched, which would ruin the taste, therefore she wouldn’t stop stirring until ready, “If you like, I have some gingerbread cookies, made by Donald”, she added, naming the most popular baker of the neighbourhood.  
“Old Donald does still work?”, Trevor asked, surprised.  
“No, he retired a long time ago, now the baker is his son-in-law, but he kept the name”, Dora explained.  
Trevor recalled the cookies he used to eat as a boy and felt unexpectedly moved. He never realised how much he missed such simple things. He awaited his voice to come back before answering:  
“Those cookies tempt me.”  
“They’re in that cupboard”, she pointed nodding with her head, “Take them, they’re in a green tin box.”  
He did it and brought the box, placing it on the table; he opened it and inhaled the distinct aroma of gingerbread, and his mouth started watering.

  
Dora was glimpsing at him and she noticed the greedy-boy-face he was making; she felt her heart soften.  
“Get one”, she exhorted him. Trevor lifted his eyes from the cookies to gaze at her and he saw her smiling at him with such sweetness, his heart somersaulted in his chest. For a moment, he felt like at home, truly, even more than in his own house. It wasn’t the physical place, he realised: it was the company. Her.  
“Thank you”, he murmured, not really knowing what he was thanking for, if simply for the cookies or for the feelings she was giving him, a sense of belonging that was making him feel wondrously well; he fished a cookie without looking and he discovered it a heart-shaped one. For a moment, he had a strong sensation of predestination that almost knocked him out; pulling himself together, he took a small bite, and the taste brought him back in time, to when he and Luke, as children, opened the cookie box for a snack during Christmas time.   
Little brother, where are you?, he asked in his mind, Why did you vanish, why didn’t you stay in touch with me? I didn’t reject you…  
Despite the bitterness, he loved Luke and knew he would cry from happiness, should he find him.  
“Excellent”, he said, referring to the cookies, “They’re exactly how I remembered them.”  
“Malcolm follows carefully his father-in-law recipe”, Dora confirmed, taking the pot off the stove, “Ready for my cocoa?”, she asked.  
“More than ready!”, he countered smiling, regaining his good mood.

  
She poured the thick, dark liquid in the two big mugs she had prepared, then placed the pot into the sink, filling it with water, and finally got the cups on the counter. Trevor reached for the mug she was placing in front of him, arriving a moment before she would take her hand away, and therefore their fingers brushed; he felt a tingle radiating from his fingertips, running up all the length of his arm, a very pleasant feeling.  
Dora, too, had felt a jolt at Trevor’s touch, but she tried not to look perturbed to not let him know how much his proximity affected her.  
“Smells good!”, Trevor exclaimed, inhaling the scents of the hot beverage; to avoid any burning, he scooped a small amount with a teaspoon and blew on it, then he tasted it, “Delicious”, he stated.   
“Isn’t it too bitter for you?”, Dora enquired, remembering that he liked to add much sugar to his coffee and how, at lunch, he had appreciated Kelly’s sweet infusion.  
“Let’s say it’s more bitter than I usually have it, but as you said, I think if I add sugar, I’d risk to hide too much the cinnamon”, Trevor pondered, scooping another spoonful, “No, it’s perfect as it is”, he added, nodding with conviction.   
“Glad to know it”, Dora said, pleased; she picked up a star-shaped cookie and munched at it, “I adore gingerbread”, she revealed, “It reminds me of my childhood… carefree times…”   
A shadow clouded her eyes and Trevor felt his heart squeeze.  
“Yeah”, he said under his breath, “you say well, those were carefree times, with no concerns… we lived day by day, looking at life with joy, expectation, marvel… things you loose on the way, unfortunately, with the harshness of life and disappointments you get.”   
His bitter tone struck Dora, and she realised he, too, wasn’t happy with his life. She wondered about the reason: after all, he didn’t lack fame and wealth, and his looks could easily rival the ones of many a 30-year-old man, and he didn’t lack even health. Maybe was he referring to his recent loss of his parents to that tragic fatality? He had cut all ties with them for two decades, but they remained his father and mother still. Or was there something else? A person is unhappy because he or she doesn’t carry out a deep desire of the heart, like she, who for too many years was lacking at the one thing she longed the most: the love of an honest man. What was the thing Trevor longed for? She thought it impossible being it the same of hers, because usually men care less about love than women; but even if he belonged to the small minority of men who, instead, did care, then couldn’t believe that he found no woman who wanted to stay by his side, among all the stunning beauties surrounding him because of his job. However, thinking better of it, he didn’t look – he never looked – the kind of man who considers only beauty, about a woman. If he was alone, assumed he truly was, it wasn’t because of lack of raw material, but because he still hadn’t found the right woman for him.  
She stared in his eyes – those bright grey-blue eyes that made her heart pound as it did when she was a teenager and that even now affected her so much – and, for the first time, she saw them overcast with a veil of solitude and melancholy.  
“I try hard to find them still, in my life”, she declared, talking, she too, in a low voice, “The joy, the expectation, the marvel… but sometimes it’s difficult.”  
“True”, Trevor confirmed, not averting his gaze from hers. How beautiful were her eyes, he thought, of the sweetest velvety brown, dotted with green specks that, as he had seen today, the bright sun emphasised. Now sadness clouded them and, all of a sudden, he realised he couldn’t bear it, he wanted to see them always shining like stars. He thought about something to say and break this melancholic moment, but he came up with nothing brilliant; he made a somewhat crooked smile:   
“Come, let’s not ruin this fantastic cocoa with gloomy thoughts…”  
“You’re perfectly right”, Dora agrees, nodding emphatically and, to stress her conviction about it, she scooped a spoonful, “Whoo, it’s hot… but so delicious!”  
She suckled the teaspoon like a child and Trevor chuckled, the cold fingers of sadness again far from his soul; then his gaze fell on her lips, where a drop of chocolate lingered. He had a vision of himself cleaning those lips with the tip of his tongue, then slipping it between them for a deep and sensual kiss… He felt a hot flush in his groin, where his blood had suddenly flown to in an abrupt and embarrassing hard-on. Luckily, he was seated and on the other end of the counter, therefore Dora wouldn’t see anything…  
Dora noticed the direction of his gaze and felt butterflies in her stomach. Refusing to believe a man like Trevor could take an interest for her beyond friendship, she thought about a more banal reason.  
“What is it? Have I a chocolate stain?”, she asked, touching her lower lip; he nodded a yes, but pointed to his upper lip, and so she cleaned it with one finger, “I’m so truly messy”, she joked, and Trevor couldn’t help but laugh: he liked the way she was always able to play down everything.  
“That’s because you’ve never seen me in the mornings, fumbling with my Chocopops!”, he grinned. Now it was Dora who burst out laughing.  
“I see we’re both big kids and proud of it!”, she cried. The sad moment was definitely over, and both were glad of it.  
When they finished their hot cocoa, they chatted on for about half an hour, then Trevor, afraid of being too intrusive, took his leave.  
“Tomorrow is a shopping-dedicated day”, he announced to Dora, while she was walking him to the door, “Coffee machine, non-stick saucepan and a number of other missing pots, food, and then I’ll go and place the order for the pellet stove.”  
“For houseware, go to Gordon’s”, she suggested, “They’re always the best. Oh, mind they moved, now they’re in Herford Street, I don’t remember the house number but you cannot miss them: they have a huge sign and in this time of the year a huge Christmas tree, too, next to the entrance.”  
“Thanks for the advice, I’ll surely follow it”, Trevor declared, “And thanks for the wonderful day, I had much fun…”, he hesitated shortly, then he made a little smile, which were so typically his and which Dora had always found irresistible, “and I had a good time, with you.”  
He was aware such a phrase had implications she would recognise; according to her answer, and the way it would be delivered, he would understand if the interest he now knew he had taken in Dora was reciprocated.  
As he had guessed, Dora recognised the underlying meaning of his statement; for a moment, she felt as if her heart would jump right off her chest. Unable to hold Trevor’s intense gaze, she averted her eyes, feeling her face burning, not because of shyness – she had stopped being shy much time ago, when she realised that, at being shy, you lose much time and many chances – but because of the violent emotion that was overwhelming her. She fought to find again her composure before going back to look at him, openly, frankly.  
“Me too, I had a good time with you, today”, she said, in a low but determined voice. If there was any chance something could start between her and Trevor, she had to take it. It hadn’t been meant 20 years ago, but now, who could know?  
Trevor’s smile widened; he would have liked to bend down and brush her lips in a kiss, but he sensed instinctively it was too early for such a thing. She didn’t tell him much, about how she felt after the end of her long relationship with what’s-his-name, oh yeah, Harry, but knowing her as the sensitive person with deep feelings she was, he was sure she had suffered horribly, and now she certainly needed time to ensure she could again trust a man. And Trevor was ready to demonstrate her that she could indeed trust him.  
“Well, I hope we’ll do it again soon”, he said, “On this behalf, can I give you my mobile number?”  
“Sure”, Dora answered, taking her smartphone from a pocket in her salopettes, “Tell me…”  
He dictated it to her and she stored the data.  
“Fine”, he concluded, “See you… soon, I hope”, he added. Dora nodded smiling, and finally Trevor exited, heading for home.  
During the short track, he thought she didn’t give him her number; well, no harm, they were neighbours, it wasn’t like he was going to see her no more, he thought.  
He walked into the house and went upstairs to the main bedroom – in the end, he had chosen to sleep in there – and grabbed a change of clothes and underwear before heading for the bathroom. He had a hot shower, in the hope it would ease the discomfort of lactic acid in his muscles that he would surely feel the next day; when he got back in the bedroom, he saw his cellphone flashing, announcing the arrival of a text message. He found it to be from Dora.  
If you need a steam cleaner, at Gordon’s they have them on a Christmas promotion. A laughing emoji followed. Trevor smiled.  
Thanks for the tips, I think I’ll buy one, then, he answered, adding, he too, a laughing emoji. He got in return a thumb up. And he realised that, now, he had her number. He hastened to store it.

°°°

Dora was preparing something for dinner – a mix of steamed vegetables with a grilled turkey steak – when she heard the phone ring.  
“Mike, who’s it?”, she asked. If it was a number stored in her phone, the computer would deliver her the name.  
“Monica Safe”, was the answer.  
“Accept incoming call. Hello Monica!”  
“Hey, hello beautiful”, her best friend greeted her, “How are you?”  
“Fine, thanks; today I went skiing.”  
“The weather was tempting, indeed”, Monica considered, referring to the sunny day, “We would go, too, but we were at Frances’ for lunch.”  
Frances was Monica’s elder sister, married and with four children, two of them already rather grown up; then there was her younger brother, Robert, who had three small children.  
“You would have had fun”, Dora commented.  
“Sure enough. Maybe next time, season’s still long, luckily. Listen, I called you because I noticed that the Knight’s house is inhabited again: do you know who’s it?”  
“Yeah, it’s Trevor.”   
“What? He’s back? Did he get tired of the Big Apple?”  
“I don’t think so… I think he’s here only temporarily. His parents died three months ago and he decided to spend some time here.”   
“Oh darn, Robert and Norma are dead? And how do you know?”  
“He told me yesterday. It was a dreadful accident, a truck swerved losing control and ran them over.”  
“What a terrible tragedy!”  
“Yeah…”  
“And Luke?”  
Monica, too, had never been able to get over the Knights’ rejection of their younger son.  
“Not even he knows where he is, but he has a private detective looking for him.”  
“I hope they’ll find him… Well, he told you a great deal!”, Monica observed, the shadow of suspicion brushing her mind, “I don’t recall you two being so close, in the past.”  
“Well, no, actually, but we connected immediately very much”, Dora revealed, “so much, that we went skiing together.”  
Monica was speechless for a moment.   
“What?”, she almost shouted, “You and your teenage crush went out together?”   
Dora laughed:  
“We sent skiing, it wasn’t a date!”  
“Well, it’s a beginning! Then one thing leads to another…”  
“Come on, now take it easy and don’t overdo it”, Dora stopped her, then she thought it was foolish trying to keep something from her, “Sure, it would be nice…”, she added in an undertone.  
Monica knew her better than she knew her own sister, in some ways, and she read correctly her friend’s tone, between hope and fear.  
“You still like him, don’t you?”, she enquired, in an undertone, she too; earlier she had jested, but now she understood well it was no time anymore.  
“Very much”, Dora admitted, “Trevor was always a nice person, even as a boy, but now he’s even better.”  
Monica thought it was easy for anyone to lose one’s head over such a man; but for Dora, it was even easier, given her history with him. She didn’t know if she had to be happy for her, as she hadn’t been able to feel other than a fleeting interest for a man, after Harry; or if she rather had to worry for her, considering her emotional and sentimental frailty, worsened by the recent loss of her father. The way she had known Trevor in their youth, she was certain he would never want to hurt Dora; but if she fell in love with him and he didn’t reciprocate her, he wouldn’t be able to avoid it.  
“And you, do you think he likes you?, she enquired therefore, tactfully.  
Dora pondered, before answering; so far, she had categorically refused to allow herself any hope, but Trevor’s phrasing before taking his leave – when he told her he had a good time with her that day – and his attitude while voicing it, seen in an objective light, were a clear lead.   
“I think so”, she answered slowly, “Of course, I cannot be sure one-hundred percent, and I’m afraid to delude myself, but… but if I don’t go for it, I’ll never know. And it’s not that I’m getting any younger”, she concluded, sighing.  
Monica felt her chest tighten: she knew well how much lonely she felt. She remembered that, last year, she even signed up in a dating website, in the hope, even a vague one, to meet someone interesting, but it had proved useless: the few who matched her search for age, geographical proximity, personality, in the end had let her down, all of them, so she had cancelled her subscription.  
She wondered how he could help her, how she could favour the possible beginning of something between them. She came up with a very simple solution.   
“I would love to meet Trevor”, she stated, “Do you think he would like it, if next Saturday I would organise a dinner here at home? This way, Alex can use his new barbecue”, she added as an excuse.  
“I can ask him”, Dora answered.  
“Do you know if he has any particular food requirements? Is he vegetarian, allergic to something, or anything else?”  
“I don’t think so, but I’ll ask him this, too.”  
“Okay, let me know what he answers”, Monica concluded, before saying goodbye. Hanging up, she hoped with all her heart that Trevor would accept the invitation and that a nice and relaxed circumstance would favour the beginning of a potential love story between him and Dora. Nothing would make her happier than seeing her childhood friend happy, a friend she loved as much as her sister Frances.  
Meanwhile, Dora had finished cooking; she sat and had dinner, slightly thoughtful: she was uncertain if sending Trevor a text to tell him about Monica’s invitation, or if calling him. Then she realised she was behaving like a teenager at her first crush: shall I call him? Shall I not? What will he think? Dora, are you kidding me?!, she reproached herself; she was no teenager, she was a grow up woman, she wouldn’t be afraid calling the White House, much less she would be afraid calling a man she knew for a lifetime! She placed down her fork and grabbed her mobile phone.  
Trevor answered at the second ring:  
“Hi!”, he greeted her in a cheerful tone.  
“Hi, am I bothering you? If you’re dining, I’ll call later”, Dora said in one breath.  
“I just finished, don’t worry”, he reassured her, “Tell me.”  
“Monica called me”, she began; no need to specify who she was, as they had talked about her even this day, recalling the old times, “She wants to invite you for dinner next Saturday, if you like it.”  
“I like it for sure”, Trevor answered with no hesitation, “I’ll be glad to see her again, and to meet her husband and daughter.”  
“Excellent!, Dora cried, very happy, “Monica wanted to know if you have any particular food requirements...”  
“Yes: I adore eating!”, laughed Trevor, who was a good eater, except when he was too stressed because in this case, as he had already told Dora, he tended to lose his appetite, “Seriously, tell her she can prepare anything she likes and the way she likes, I have neither problems nor limits, fortunately.”  
“Fine, I’ll tell her so.”  
“Oh, and please ask her what she’s going to cook, I’d like to bring the right wine”, he added.  
“She mentioned christening their new barbecue, but I’ll ask for confirmation”, she assured him, “I must go no, my dinner’s getting cold.”  
“Enjoy your meal then; and thank Monica for the invitation, I’m very glad about it”, Trevor repeated.  
“I’ll do that. Good night.”  
“Good night to you, Dora.”  
She hung up, a sea of emotions churning inside of her; uselessly she told herself that, again, it wasn’t a date, but a simple dinner among old friends, almost a reunion: she knew already it would be a very long wait.  
Next house, Trevor put down his cellphone, feeling surprised about the euphoria that had seized him. He felt like when he was preparing for his very first date, back in high school; he still remembered well it had only be about going for an ice-cream together, and he was so much agitated that he had almost wetted his pants. And yet, it was only a dinner with the family of an old acquaintance they shared, a not at all romantic circumstance.  
He realised that, what was making him feel euphoric, was the simple idea to see Dora again; sure, he did know before he would see her soon – after all, they were neighbours – but only now that it had come to reality, and even much earlier than he had thought it possible, he was truly understanding how much he cared about it.  
How much time was it, that he liked a woman so much, the simple thought of seeing her again affected him this way? He didn’t even remember...

°°°

In the following three days, Trevor was busy with purchasing stuff for his house; among others, he didn’t thought about bringing sheets – the first night he had slept on the couch, the other two on the naked mattress of the double bed with only a quilt – nor spare towels; besides, he decided to change mattress and pillows to have them in memory foam. He had the house phone connected, so he could have Wi-Fi internet; in addition to the coffee machine, the bathroom heater and a number of pots and pans, he bought a new microwave oven, as the old one didn’t work anymore, and as the fridge, too, needed to be replaced, he bought an environment-friendly one with ice-maker, as well as a late-model vacuum-cleaner. And, chuckling to himself, he purchased a steam-cleaner, too.  
The technician of the pellet stoves came by to evaluate the situation and he advised him for a model that could be placed into the hearth, which they could bring and install the day after already, but he preferred to wait a few days because, at this point, he would and repaint in white the inner part of the fireplace.  
In the meantime, in the loft he found a few boxes with Christmas decorations, as well as a fake fir tree so much worn-out, that he decided to go and buy a new one. So he began to garnish the house at a good pace, beginning from the sitting room where he placed the tree, then going to the living room and the kitchen where he scattered various decorations. Finally, using the last hours of daylight, he went outside, hanging a row of coloured LED light on the porch and adorning the entrance door with garlands and streamers.

  
It was dusk by the time he finished and got back in. There were still three days to the dinner at Monica’s, who had confirmed the barbecue, therefore he had purchased a Californian pinot noir that the owner of the only wine shop in Norvale had recommended him; suddenly he realised he couldn’t wait so long to see Dora. He thought that he could invite her for coffee; thoughtfully, instead of calling her – she surely was at work and it was not fit – he sent her a text: If tonight after dinner you’re free, I’d like to try with you my new coffee machine.  
She didn’t answer immediately; apparently she was busy with work and Trevor held back his eagerness. About one hour later he received a text: I’d love to. 8 p.m. is okay?  
Sure, I’ll be waiting for you, he answered. And he felt again thrilled.

°°°

When Dora got home, she noticed immediately the Christmas lights decorating the Knight’s porch; it was since Robert and Norma moved to Reno that she didn’t see any. It felt a little weird; whilst she was glad, because it meant that Trevor planned to stay long enough that it would make sense garnishing his house, she felt a lump in her throat because it highlighted even more the lack of decorations of her own house. On the other hand, she saw no reason to change her mind: her motivations still remained.  
She entered, disabled the alarm as usual and headed for the kitchen to put away the fresh fruit and vegetables she bought on her way home. She hadn’t much appetite, therefore she prepared a bowl of salad with a few walnut kernels and ate it sitting in front of the TV, watching a Star Trek episode.  
She had often thought of Trevor, in those three days, and of how much she had enjoyed their time together; they would meet again on Saturday at the Safe’s, but she didn’t deny she would gladly see him earlier, however she guessed he was busy refurnishing his home, and the Christmas lights were proof of it. And then here comes Trevor, almost as if reading her mind, inviting her for coffee. Maybe trying his new coffee machine was a predictable excuse, but nonetheless nice, and surely less a stereotype than the butterfly collection, she added, chuckling to herself.  
Punctually, at 8 p.m. Dora rang Trevor’s doorbell, and after a few moments he opened.  
“Hi”, he greeted her with a quiet smile, which was even more charming than the flashing ones he used on the fashion magazines, maybe because more authentic, more suited to his true personality, which has rather reserved. Because of his job, not many would say that Trevor Knight was the quiet type, more similar to an English gentleman than to a superstar model.  
“Hi there”, Dora responded while he stepped aside to let her in, then he helped her taking off her parka and, after hanging it on the rack, he led her to the kitchen. When they entered, Trevor showed her the brand-new coffee machine, which could prepare both a six-coffee-carafe and one or two cups, with a programmable timer that would allow finding coffee ready in the mornings.  
“Wow, I could really use that”, Dora commented, referring to the latter, “I could think about changing the one I have, that’s beginning to get old.”  
“I bought the Equal Exchange coffee”, Trevor announced, showing her the red packet beside the machine.  
“Excellent choice”, Dora nodded, “I like the flavour, but also the producer’s fair-trade mission.”  
“Yes, I like both, too”, he claimed, beginning to pour coffee into the machine, “Do you like it regular, or do you prefer differently?”  
“Regular, thanks.”  
Trevor prepared two cups, adding a couple spoons of sugar to his, then he brought them at the counter where his guest was sitting.  
“Very good”, Dora declared after tasting it.  
“Maybe a little too light”, Trevor commented, “I have to adjust the amounts: obviously you find only general directions in the instructions, in the end everyone brews it according to his own tastes.”  
“Yeah, and much depends on the coffee: some are not so tasty but full of caffeine, if you use too much you create a bomb; while other coffees have a low caffeine amount but are very tasty and you need just a small amount to indulge your palate.”  
“Absolutely true. How was work, these days?”, he enquired, changing the subject.  
“We finished a bridal gown”, Dora told him, “and today the customer came to pick it up; to be safe, I always do a last fitting and I assure you, the bride looked like a princess coming straight out of a Russian fairy-tale: a very simply cut gown with a silvery embroidered bodice and a long overcoat, likewise embroidered in silver thread, with collar and cuffs covered in faux fur.”  
“Were you satisfied with it?”  
“Absolutely; but the biggest satisfaction is seeing the brides’ wonder when they look into the mirror and are charmed by what they see in it.”  
“Do you take pictures of your creations?”  
“Always, even to show them to those customers who have not yet a clear idea about what they want”, she said, “Once a bride-to-be came asking for a gown made in a certain way, but as much similar dresses as I was showing her, she was never satisfied; finally, it turned out that what she was describing me was the gown her mother-in-law-to-be would want, while she liked a completely different style. I convinced her to do it her own way and not her mother-in-law’s and in the end she was so happy with her dress, that she gave me a poster of her and the groom, now hanging in the hall of my atelier.”   
“A dress should reflect the personality of the one wearing it”, Trevor observed, “and make you feel comfortable. You shouldn’t let anyone influence you, nor let formalism take over, except a few common-sense rules, such as those circumstances require, like don’t wear a tuxedo if you go hiking in the mountains.”  
“Or stiletto heels if you travel by plane”, added Dora grinning, “as learned well the lass going down the ladder in front of me, who fell and broke her ankle. She wore striking Balenciaga with at least 5” high heels.”  
“Oh gosh!”, he cried, “Something tells me she never wore them again while travelling by plane...”  
They both laughed at the reckless and vain passenger’s expense.  
“I ordered the pellet stove”, Trevor told Dora, “They’ll install it in the fireplace, exactly like you suggested, so yesterday I cleaned it carefully and today they brought me a slab of granite to cover the bottom, the same type of the edge; tomorrow I plan to paint white the inner side, and then when everything’s ready, they’ll bring me the stove.”  
“Great! You’ll like it for sure!”, Dora approved.  
“I have no doubt.”  
Coffee was finished by now, but they went on chatting, totally relaxed.  
“The new Star Wars movie comes out Friday”, Trevor observed, well knowing Dora’s passion for science fiction.  
“Yes, I can’t wait! I’ve been waiting for this for two years... I’m eager to know how the story develops. Did you know I went to see Rogue One the very day Carrie Fisher died? I had just seen her on the big screen, young and bold in computer graphics, then I come out of the theatre and everyone is talking about her death... I was shocked.”  
“Princess Leia is an icon of cinematography”, Trevor observed, “I was shocked, too, about her sudden passing.”   
“Leia is even something more: the first princess in cinema history who has no need of a knight in shining armour to get out of trouble”, Dora pointed out to him, “Even if Luke and Han come to her aid on the Death Star, she takes an active part in the escape and it’s her the one realising that they let them actually flee, to track the Millennium Falcon in the hope to hunt down the rebel base, and they in fact succeed.”  
“You’re right, I didn’t think of it. In a still very sexist era of the cinema, as it was at the end of the Seventies, princess Leia is a tough girl who knows what she’s doing and is even capable to use a blaster.”  
“Exactly! For me, she had been an inspiration, as for my dignity of person accidentally belonging to the female gender. As much as Jadzia Dax in Star Trek.”  
Trevor tried to recall this last character:  
“I’m sorry, I don’t remember who she is...”  
“Captain Sisko’s Trill friend, in Deep Space Nine.”  
“Oh yes, the science officer of the space station, right?”  
“That’s her.”  
“Indeed, there are some character similarities: both are strong and independent and combative”, Trevor confirmed.   
Dora hesitated, then she gathered all her courage:  
“Hey, would you like to come seeing this move with me, Sunday?”  
“I was about to ask you myself”, Trevor confessed, smiling. Dora felt a great deal of warmth gushing inside of her, in her soul.   
“Good”, she exclaimed, trying to look confident, “I’ll get immediately the tickets; we have just three theatres here in Norvale, but they’re all equipped for online booking. However I’m afraid you’ll have to settle with the 2D, the 3D hasn’t arrived here yet, not to mention the IMAX”, she added, laughing.  
“That’s okay”, he assured her; he saw her taking her mobile phone, “Wait, I’ll give you the password to my Wi-Fi, so you surf faster”, he added, standing up.  
“Oh, did you reactivate the landline?”  
“Yes, I did”, he confirmed; he took his own cellphone, entered his notes and found the password he had stored there, dictating it to Dora, “Where do they show the movie?”  
“At the Odeon Theatre.”  
“Is there still La Guarida del Pirata, next to it?”, Trevor asked, referring to a Mexican restaurant located by the theatre.  
“Yes, it is.”  
“So what about dinner there, after the movie?”, he suggested. Dora realised, thrilled, that Trevor wanted to prolong as much as possible their time together and again, like before, she felt warmness surrounding her soul.  
“S...sure”, she accepted, kicking herself for stuttering like a young girl asked out for the very first time. Well, on second thought, it was exactly so, even if with an over 20 years delay, because it was the first time Trevor was asking her out. The day skiing did not count, it hadn’t been a date; and she had done the invitation to the movie, while the dinner at the Safe’s had been Monica’s initiative.  
“Great”, Trevor commented, with that adorable little smile of his. Dora got charmed by looking at him; he was so alluring, she wondered if she was dreaming.

  
Finally she realised it was past 10.00; with a sigh, she stood up.   
“I’d better go”, she said, “Tomorrow I have to work...”  
“Of course”, Trevor answered, standing quickly up in turn, “I walk you to the door.”   
In the hall, he helped her donning again her anorak.  
“Goodnight”, Dora bid him, “See you Saturday.”  
“By the way, shall I pick you up, so we can go together to Monica’s?”, he asked her.  
“Yes, that’s fine. I’ll wait you at 7 o’clock”, she reminded him.  
“I’ll be there five minutes earlier”, Trevor concluded, “Goodnight.”  
When Dora left, Trevor locked the door and turned out the light, then he got back in the kitchen and washed the mugs, before putting them away. Slowly, he went upstairs to go to sleep; it was very early, according to his New York standards, but since he returned to Norvale, his circadian rhythms had changed: he awakened early and in consequence he went to sleep early, he was more relaxed and calm, exactly like the small town’s rhythms. He had been afraid he would get bored, but so far it didn’t happen. Quite the opposite, and it was all because of Dora. He felt thrilled at the idea to see her in a potentially romantic circumstance like going to the movies and then to dinner together. Frankly, he was looking forward to Sunday...

°°°

Dora entered home and made Mike locking the door, then she went to her bedroom, where she changed for the night. Once under the covers, she wondered again if this was all just a dream.  
A date with Trevor Knight! Was it possible this was true and not all just in her mind, coming from her inability to accept her loneliness? Was it possible he had actually taken an interest in her, an obscure provincial stylist, not even remotely as much attractive as the women the usually dated? Nonetheless, he had promptly accepted her invitation to the movies. He could have refused, making any excuse; but he didn’t.   
Dora wanted avoiding hope, at all costs, in the compelling fright to delude herself; but finally she realised it was a losing battle: Trevor had by now clearly shown his attraction to her and at this point, it was completely useless denying it, it would only insult her intelligence.  
Her fortitude had been inexorably eroded over the years, with the accumulation of one sorrow after the other, starting from the end of her relationship with Harry, through her mother’s death and culminating with her father’s. She appealed to the last shred she still held.  
Okay, she told herself, It is what it is.  
She didn’t know how she would react, should she face another letdown; too many dark thoughts had haunted her lately to be sure she could overcome it, the same way she had hardly overcome the previous ones. But now it was too late to avoid the risk.  
Because she had fallen in love again with Trevor Knight.  
Or maybe she never ceased to be in love with him.

 


	4. Chapter IV: Dinner Party

 

Chapter IV: Dinner party

 

Trevor was walking the short driveway to the Morgans’ house; even if the impatience to see Dora was the dominant emotion in his soul, he still noticed the enduring lack of Christmas decorations. By now, everyone in the area had garnished their houses and Dora’s stood out in a very apparent way because it was the only one without. The last weekend he attributed it to lack of time, even because on Sunday she had been with him the better part of the day, skiing. Perhaps, he thought, she planned to do it the following day.

He rang the doorbell and after a few moments, the door opened. He saw Dora approaching him, wearing palazzo pants – very popular this year – in dark green velvet, very elegant but played down by a very simple black shirt; a silver necklace brightened up her outfit, as well as the matching dangly earrings.

 

“You’re very pretty”, Trevor told her with an admiring smile. Dora felt wrapped in the warmth of his gaze as if in an embrace and her heart jumped, thrilled.

“Thank you”, she murmured, grabbing the long burgundy coat from the rack; Trevor helped her donning it, then Dora grasped her purse, “Let’s go”, she exhorted him.

They exited; before going down the steps of the porch, Trevor offered Dora his arm to help her: he had noticed she wore high-heeled shoes and, even if the steps and the driveway had been cleared of the snow, they could still be slippery. Grateful, Dora thanked him with a smile and leaned on him; together, they started off and crossed the street, reaching a few moments later the Safes’ door, which was decked with a beautiful garland of holly, decorated with red and golden balls.

“Welcome!”, Monica greeted them, opening the door, “Come on in!”

 

They obeyed; their host looked at Trevor from below – she was even shorter than Dora, who already was just over 5’25” – and her smile grew wider.

“I’m very happy to see you, Trevor, after all this time”, she declared.

“Me too, I’m happy to see you, Monica”, he replied, returning her smile; he handed her the paper bag he was carrying, “Here’s the wine, as promised. I took the advice of the wine-shop owner, who recommended uncorking it at least half an hour before drinking.”

“Thank you very much, I’ll take care of it immediately. Come on, take off your coats: I’ll get you a rum punch for a drink.”

“Now that’s a good start!”, Dora laughed, turning then to Trevor, “Alex’s rum punch is a _bomb_ , especially on an empty stomach.”

“That’s why I prepared a few appetizers”, Monica promptly replied, laughing in turn.

When Trevor took off his coat, Dora had some trouble not staring: he was spectacular, wearing a dark grey suit and a black polo shirt, elegant without being too formal.

 

As much hard as she was trying, however, her gaze was scorching; Trevor noticed it clearly when he turned. It took his breath away; many women had stared at him this way, in the past, but none, _none_ of them had ever taken away his breath like Dora was doing now. He tried to look nonchalantly and addressed her his trademark little smile, but he only worsened things, because at this point her gaze dropped to his lips. For a dizzying moment, he imagined her wrapping her arms around his neck to make him bend down and kiss him... her soft lips against his... her tongue slipping between them seeking a deep kiss... He wondered what she tasted like: surely, she must taste good, and he would be more than happy to devour her mouth in an endless kiss...

Monica passed her gaze from one to the other and realised she had no need to favour anything: those two had already fallen deep for one another. She resolved anyway to have a little talk with Trevor, to warn him: should he hurt Dora, she would cut off an essential part of his masculinity.

They went to the sitting room, where on a cart stood a great jug with Alex’s famous rum punch, as well as a tray with tiny canapés and vol-au-vents. Alex was sitting on the couch and stood up when they entered, moving towards them; he was almost as much tall as Trevor, and like him, he sported a short, well-trimmed beard, while his glasses gave him an intellectual appearance.

 

“Welcome to our home, Trevor”, he said, “I often heard about you, both from Monica and from Dora.”

“I hope it was in a positive way!”, Trevor cried, with such a funny alarmed face, that Alex burst out laughing; they shook hands.

“All too much!”, Alex commented jestingly, “I could even feel jealous, if I didn’t know for sure my wife loves me.”

Trevor, too, laughed, but Dora could swear her friend’s comment made him feel embarrassed. Knowing nothing about his uneasiness, Alex went on cheerfully:

“Come, I want you to meet our daughter.”

Trevor followed him while he moved to the other side of the sitting room where, in a corner, had been set up a play area, the floor covered by a multi-coloured mat with various toys scattered on it; in the centre, a beautiful little girl, her hair, as dark as her father’s, falling in curls on her shoulders.

“Marissa, there’s Aunt Dora, and this is her friend Trevor.”

The girl lifted her face and stared at the newcomer, intrigued.

“Hello”, Trevor said, a little uncertain: he had no experience with children and never knew how to handle them.

“Hi”, she answered, tilting her head sideways to better watch him; she beamed at him, but then her gaze was driven to something else behind him, “Aunt Dora!”, she cried, standing up. Dora entered Trevor’s visual field and kneeled down.

“Good evening, Marissa”, she greeted the child, a moment before the latter threw her arms around her neck and placed her a kiss on one cheek. It was plain she adored her _aunt_.

After returning the little one’s kiss, Dora stood up and, holding her hand, she got close to Trevor.

“So, did you meet my goddaughter Marissa?”, she asked him smiling and he nodded, “Don’t get fooled by her sweet face, she’s a true brat”, she informed him under her breath as if conspiring.

“That’s not true!”, Marissa protested, having heard her perfectly, and of course Dora had counted exactly on this.

“Is that so?”, Dora replied, arching one brow, “Will you behave, tonight?”

“I behave _always_ ”, the child claimed forcefully, then with all her little self, she returned to her toys.

“She plays hurt, but she enjoys it”, Dora said smiling, “And she’s no true brat, she’s a child with such a bright intelligence, that sometimes she leaves everyone breathless. It’s just that sometimes she stands her ground and her parents must play tough.”

Meanwhile, Alex had poured the punch in the _highball_ glasses with some ice; he gave two to the guests, then one to his wife, who had returned from the kitchen where she had uncorked the wine, and he kept the last one for himself.

“To us!”, he toasted. Trevor rose his glass to return the toast, then he clanked it against Dora’s before taking a sip of the beverage. It was very strong, as he had been warned, sweet but not too much.

“Good”, he commented, “but I wouldn’t have more than one glass, not even on a full stomach”, he added, referring to the alcoholic degree.

Alex grinned:

“Compared to some of the rot-gut I tried in college, this is rose water!”

Trevor laughed:

“Yeah, you’re right!”

“Better mitigate its effects with a few appetizers”, Monica suggested, laughing. Dora nodded and helped herself with a vol-au-vent stuffed with mushroom cream.

“Delicious”, she stated. Trevor, too, picked up one and confirmed.

“I’m crazy about mushrooms”, he said.

“Me too”, Dora revealed, “I get never tired of them, any type and any way they are.”

“Like me with potatoes!”, Monica interjected, laughing, “Indeed, I’ll serve you up some even tonight.”

“How did you cook them?”, Trevor enquired, expecting the classic French fries; but Monica, as much as Dora, was no ordinary cook:

“Baked, dressed with yogurt sauce and herbs.”

“Wow! Sounds appetizing.”

“You tell me after tasting them...”

Alex donned his parka and exited to go and grill the meat, kindly refusing Trevor’s help.

“Won’t he freeze, out there?”, the latter asked, worried.

“The barbecue isn’t outdoors”, Monica reassured him, “In the winter months, we keep it in the garage. Of course it’s not warm, but neither is it sub-zero like outside.”

“Oh, good, otherwise I’d feel guilty.”

“There’s absolutely no need of it, Alex’s rarely cold.”

“I call him living stove”, Dora laughed, “He’s never cold, that man, I can’t understand how he manages it!”

They placed their appetizers on saucers and sat in the sitting room, where they chatted cordially for some time; then Marissa came to claim Dora to play with her. Dora let her lead her by the hand to her corner, where she took off her shoes to sit on the colourful mat with her goddaughter.

Trevor glanced at her, sipping at his punch: it was obvious that the two of them adored each other. He felt a sting of melancholy biting at his heart: sometimes, he wondered how it would have been becoming a father, how he would have felt playing with a son or a daughter.

“Dora told me about your parents”, Monica’s words called him back to the present time, “My condolences.”

“Thank you”, he answered, “I didn’t see them in twenty years, but...”, he shook his head, “They still were my parents”, he concluded in a low voice, “Now I hope being able to find Luke: our parents left everything to me, but I think it’s unfair he won’t receive his part of the inheritance.”

Monica felt struck:

“That’s very generous of you; I know cases of people who had no scruples whatsoever.”

He shrugged:

“I could never do that, it’s against my principles.”

“But about Luke, did you never heard from him again?”

“Unfortunately, when he left home, he didn’t show up with anyone, not even me”, he made a bitter face, “I understand he didn’t with our parents, who practically forced him to leave, but with me?”

“Are you mad at him, because of this?”

“A little, sure; that’s why, if I’ll find him, first I’ll hug him and then I’ll punch him right in the nose.”

Monica understood from his half smile that he wasn’t meaning it, about the second part.

“Dora told me you plan to stop for a while here in Norvale”, she said, testing the waters.

“Yes, I do. I haven’t decided how long, though. I want to take a break from my usual life.”

“Won’t your job suffer of this?”

“Maybe, but at this point of my career, I can even take a sabbatical. For the next three months, I accepted no job commitments. If I receive any job offers for later, I’ll consider them”, he concluded with another shrug, then he smiled at her, “Come, tell me how you and Alex met...”

Monica smiled back at him while her face brightened; it was apparent she was madly in love with her husband. Therefore, she told him how they got in touch through a Facebook group devoted to Bruce Springsteen and about how absurd they thought it living both in Norvale without ever meeting and then doing it through cyberspace.

Shortly after, Alex came back.

“Five minutes!”, he announced cheerfully.

“Very well”, said Monica, standing up, “I go and warm up the dished in the microwave and check on the sides.”

“I’ll help you”, Dora offered.

“No, I’ll do that”, Trevor said, standing up in turn, “You go on playing with Marissa”, he added, smiling at her.

“Okay”, Dora accepted, returning his smile; she didn’t notice her goddaughter’s attentive gaze.

A bit later, all were seated around the table. Alex had grilled a bountiful barbecue, with sausages, hamburgers, bratwursts, chicken breasts and beefsteaks; as sides came the baked potatoes Monica had announced, as well as mushrooms and peas.

 

Marissa ate a bratwurst and a piece of one hamburger with one potato and some peas, then she got back to the sitting room to play, leaving the adults finishing their meal. The pinot noir Trevor had brought was much appreciated, going perfectly with the meat. The atmosphere was friendly and relaxed, and soon they began to tell each other funny stories that had happened to them. One particular anecdote by Trevor cracked them up.

“It was so cold, so _terribly_ cold, that even the toilet plumbing was frozen”, he told them, referring to a photoshoot he had at sunrise of a January day in Vancouver, “I needed to pee, I tried to hold it but at a certain point I could no more and I called for a break, I sneaked behind the lavatory box and... well, I peed in the snow, at 10°*!” (*)

“Good heavens!”, Alex cried, astounded, “You get credit you found it in your pants!”

His witty remark made them laugh their heads off.

“Well, actually I had some difficulties”, Trevor admitted, provoking more laughs.

At 9.30, Monica excused herself with her guests because she had to get Marissa to bed. The little girl came and said goodnight to her daddy, then to Dora, hugging and kissing them both; then she turned to Trevor.

“Goodnight, sir”, she said, very politely as it had been taught her.

“Goodnight, young lady”, Trevor answered with a smile. Marissa returned it, then out of the blue she asked:

“Are you Aunt Dora’s fiancé?”

“Marissa!”, Monica called in a reproaching tone, while Dora felt her cheeks become hot.

Trevor gaped: the children’s perspicacity sometimes is incredibly accurate, as he had experienced a number of times in his life. The little one must have sensed his attraction to her _aunt_ , and some of Dora’s attitudes made him hope she reciprocated it.

“No, I’m not”, he answered, hiding his amazement under a grin.

“But would you like to be her fiancé?”, the child insisted.

“Stop it!”, Monica cried, embarrassed, “These are no questions to ask.”

She unceremoniously dragged her daughter away; the child, turning, cast a knowing glance at Trevor.

Unaware of the unease created by Marissa’s too blunt remark, Alex stood up:

“I’ll have coffee, who wants some?”

“Thanks, I’d love to have some”, Trevor answered, and Dora, too, accepted.

Now alone with Trevor, Dora thought it was absurd feeling uncomfortable because of an innocent remark by a child with a vivid imagination.

“So, how do you feel, after a week back in your hometown?”, she enquired, asking him a question she was thinking now for some time.

Trevor pondered about the answer.

“I feel… weird”, he admitted at length, “On one hand, I’m happy when I see something exactly as I remember it; on the other hand, when instead I see something different – houses built where once was a field, a mall in the place of a number of small shops, a disappeared cafeteria – I feel sad”, he shook his head, thoughtful, “Things change...”

“That’s true”, Dora confirmed, imagining his mood: she, too, had been away for many years, but she had come back often to visit, therefore the changes Norvale had undergone over time had looked gradual to her, whilst Trevor was seeing them all at once, “However, changing is life’s characteristic.”

“You’re right. People, too, change: their feelings, their habits, their tastes... One grows, evolves...”

“Yeah; but I’m convinced that, as far people are involved, the foundation never changes: if someone is altruistic, even if letdowns can make him grow cynical, he still stays fundamentally altruistic. Maybe he won’t be it indiscriminately, he’ll learn to distinguish who’s worth of his care and who’s not, but he won’t stop helping who’s in need.”

Trevor sensed she was talking about herself; he always thought she was a generous person, and this exposed her to big letdowns. For sure, she had been let down by her ex-fiancé, and then, who knows, perhaps even friends, relatives, colleagues. He, too, had been let down many times, during his life, by people he had trusted; therefore, he could understand her well.

“I agree”, he stated slowly, “If one is a hypocrite, or selfish, or an asshole, he’ll be all his life, as much as he tries to pretend differently.”

“Well, then there are exceptions, of course”, Dora observed, “Some change for good, for the better or for the worse.”

“Ha, certainly, but I think they’re very few.”

“I have no doubt about this...”

Monica came back at that moment.

“Marissa’s already asleep?”, Dora asked.

“Like a log”, her friend confirmed, “I allowed her to stay up half an hour longer, because tomorrow she doesn’t go to the kindergarten, but not being used to it, she collapsed as soon as her head hit the pillow.”

Alex peered from the kitchen.

“Love, do you want some coffee?”, he asked his wife.

“Yes, thank you!”

Shortly after, Alex carried in a tray with four steaming cups, a jug of cream and a sugar bowl. Monica added cream, Trevor sugar, while Dora and Alex had a regular coffee.

“Tomorrow we go skiing”, Alex announced, “Do you two come, too?”

“You know I always go very early”, Dora reminded them; they instead, because of their little girl, couldn’t start so early, “In case, we could meet there, we have only to agree on place and time.”

“The bobsleigh slope, at 10.00?”, Monica suggested; she and her husband would take turns to look after Marissa while the other one went skiing.

“We can do that. Trevor?”, Dora urged him.

“Sure, as long as we won’t miss the beginning of the movie”, he answered, reminding her their date.

“No problem: it starts at 5 o’clock, and we’ll be back around 3.00. We have even time to drink my famous hot chocolate, if you like.”

Monica and Alex exchanged a quick glance: she had told him what was happening between Dora and Trevor and about her wish to favour the beginning of a possible love story, but actually, those two were going along very well already.

“Hey, what movie are you going to see?”, Monica enquired.

“ _The Last Jedi_ ”, Dora answered.

“And then we go to the Mexican”, Trevor added, smiling.

“An intense programme, if you come skiing, too”, Alex commented.

“The company’s worth it”, Trevor replied, not specifying if he meant the Safe family, or only Dora; but Alex didn’t doubt what he was referring to, between the two.

Dora cast a glance to the pendulum clock on the opposite wall, which showed it was almost 10.30.

“Then I’d say it’s time to go to sleep”, she suggested Trevor, “because, at this point, we’ll get up early, tomorrow morning.”

“Good idea”, he agreed, standing up, “Monica, Alex, thank you for dinner: it was delicious, and all the more the company.”

“It’s been a pleasure”, Alex stated, standing up in turn, “I hope we’ll do it again, soon.”

“Sure!”, Dora exclaimed, “Maybe at my place, so I can unleash my fantasy in cooking, because doing it only for myself isn’t very satisfactory.”

“Next Sunday is Christmas Eve”, Monica reminded her, hinting to her coming for dinner; she suddenly got an inspiration and added, “Trevor, what about coming, you too?”

The unexpected invitation left Trevor speechless for a moment.

“I don’t know... I don’t want to bother you”, he answered, hesitantly.

“Don’t be silly!”, Alex cried, “You don’t want to be alone at Christmas Eve, do you? Come on!”

Moved by such great cordiality, Trevor smiled.

“At this point, I cannot refuse”, he declared, “Thank you, you’re incredibly kind.”

In the hall, he helped Dora donning her coat, then he slipped into his own and, after the last bye-byes to their hosts, they exited.

It was snowing heavily and both the driveway and the street were covered in a soft layer of snow. Engrossed in their lively chatting and in each other’s pleasurable company, none of them had noticed.

“Oh gosh!”, Monica cried, dismayed, “I borrow you an umbrella.”

“Thanks”, Dora said whilst her friend handed her the tool. She opened it and accepted Trevor’s arm, then they walked down the snow-covered driveway, while their hosts hurried inside.

“Darn, these are surely not the best shoes”, Dora grumbled, feeling some snow sipping inside them. Trevor stopped.

“I’ve got an idea”, he said, then with no warning he slipped one arm around her shoulders and the other behind her knees, picking her up effortlessly.

Taken aback, Dora almost lost the umbrella.

“Hey!”, she panted, “What are you doing??”

“I think it’s evident”, he grinned, casting her a sideways glance, “I give you a lift.”

She grinned in turn:

“You’re totally crazy... Okay, but be very careful, we both risk to end up falling and breaking one leg.”

“Oh no, no-no, tomorrow we are going to ski!”, he cried, “Not to mention the movie and dinner!”

At any rate, he walked very carefully; there wasn’t a soul in sight while they slowly crossed the street.

Trevor felt Dora tighten her grasp around him and he liked it very much; her touch thrilled and warmed him, not only on a physical level, but inside, too, in his very soul, because it was warmth going beyond their bodies. She felt so... _right_ , in his arms, as if that was her place, as if he was born to hold her that way.

About halfway, Dora laid her head on his shoulder and Trevor felt the gentle touch of her breathing against his neck; the feeling made him almost wheeze and his blood burst into flames. His groin quivered, but also his heart.

Moving even more cautiously, Trevor walked along the Morgans’ driveway, then he climbed the three steps to her porch and arrived in front of the door; the sensor picked them up and turned on the light.

Unwillingly, Trevor placed Dora down, but he left his arm around her shoulders. Their eyes met.

“Here... we are”, she observed, completely unnecessarily. She had no desire to let go of Trevor.

“Yeah”, he mumbled, equally reluctant to let her go. His gaze dropped to her lips, covered with a thin layer of light pink lipstick; he saw them parting slightly and butterflies got loose in his stomach, dancing a wild dance. He gulped and lifted his eyes again.

Noticing him staring at her mouth, Dora felt breathless; she didn’t realise she was parting her lips whilst her gaze, too, dropped to Trevor’s mouth. Her heart was somersaulting, her knees were turning to jelly.

Slowly, Trevor lifted one hand and placed it on Dora’s cheek; she closed her eyes, leaning in his palm. His heart jumped to his throat. Gently, he brushed her lips with his thumb.

Dora felt his caress and gasped. She opened abruptly her eyes and stared into Trevor’s, getting lost in his gaze. She lifted her face to his, in a clear invitation. Her head was spinning.

Trevor placed also his other hand on her face and bent his head, his eyes staring into Dora’s, moving slowly, as if afraid of breaking a spell. Little by little, he drew his lips to hers, until both felt the other one’s breath, just a few lines apart. They closed their eyes simultaneously; a moment later, their mouths brushed each other.

The world surrounding them ceased to exist. Time stopped. One perceived only the other.

Trevor disclosed his lips and pressed lightly Dora’s between them; with a touch of the tip of his tongue, as light as a butterfly’s wings, he asked her permission to enter.

 

Her mind emptied of any clear thought, aware only of emotion and feeling, Dora granted him entrance, fulfilling her as well as his wish. She felt Trevor sweetly invading her mouth; their tongues caressed each other gently, brushing, intertwining, fondling one another.

Dora let the umbrella fall, being it now just a hindrance, and lifted her arms behind Trevor’s back, pressing herself into him. Panting, Trevor encircled her shoulders, one hand on the nape of her neck while their kiss became deeper and more passionate. Dora hold on him, her knees giving way; they staggered and ended up stumbling against the door, which offered them the support they needed. They ended the kiss, only to take a quick breath and begin another one, even more fiery. Dora tightened her arms around Trevor, craving him closer and closer to her; sensing her desire, Trevor pushed harder into her, but there were too many layers of cloth separating them and a frustrated sigh escaped him.

Dora echoed him, equally frustrated; as soon as their lips parted again, she gasped:

“W... wait.”

Trevor froze. Was she asking him to stop? The way she had reciprocated his kisses, he would swear she wanted him as much as he wanted her; but maybe he had pushed her too far and had frightened her. Even if years had passed since the end of her disappointing love story with what-was-his-name – the imbecile who left her for a younger woman – it could be that she didn’t feel ready to put her heart again at stake.

“I’m sorry”, he whispered, hoarsely, “I shouldn’t have...”

Dora prevented him to go on placing her lips back on his.

“Please, move aside”, she asked him. Perplexed, but wanting to respect her will whatever it was, Trevor obeyed and took a step back.

With trembling hands, Dora fished the keys from the pocket of her coat and opened the door, entered while the lights in the hall turned on and placed her index finger on the sensor to deactivate the alarm; then, not heeding Mike’s usual welcome message, she turned to Trevor.

Unsure about what to do, Trevor had stayed still, watching her; he saw her turning, while a sweet smile bent her beautiful lips, now devoid of any lipstick.

“Come in”, she invited him, extending her hand to him.

His heart skipped one beat.

Returning her smile, he took her hand and entered.

As soon as the door closed behind him, Dora began to unbutton her coat; chivalrous as ever, Trevor helped her to take it off, then he hanged it and a few moments later, he did the same with his.

Dora reached again for him and he promptly took her hand; she led him to the sitting room, where the fire blazed in the stove, lighted via app as soon as they had decided to take their leave. The room wasn’t very warm yet, but it would be in a short time.

Actually, Dora had thought about taking Trevor straight to her bedroom; every fibre of her body vibrated in longing, but at the last moment, she hesitated. She couldn’t, she wouldn’t reason with only her hormones. She had never had sex without being in love and with Trevor, too, would be so, but she wanted to know if it was the same for him, or not. She didn’t know if it would make any difference. For too long she had denied herself the simple consolation of a loving embrace, even if only physical, just because she was a stupid romantic. It was time to change things, it was time she allowed herself a little of that consolation… but she was perfectly aware that, should it be another one and not Trevor, she wouldn’t even think about it.

No, she decided, it wasn’t important that Trevor reciprocated her feelings; she would take what he was willing to give her, whatever it might be, for all the time he wanted. When he would go away, maybe she would repent it; but she always had been persuaded it’s better repent something you did, than regret something you _didn’t_ do.

She turned again to Trevor and placed her hands on his chest, lifting her eyes to his; she discovered he was watching her closely, as if wanting make sure what she wished, before making any move. She realised he was giving her the freedom to choose, to remain on the path they had taken or to stop.

Slowly, she slipped her hands under the lapels of Trevor’s jacket, moved them upwards and pushed the garment off his shoulders.

Her move was clearer than any word; he let the jacket fall on the floor, then wrapped his arms around Dora and pulled her to him. His eyes had never left hers. He felt deeply thrilled, as if he had waited for this moment all his life; it was a feeling that filled him with marvel and at the same time with awe.

He bent his head and captured her lips again, gently; he felt her hook her arms around his neck while returning his kiss. The taste of her mouth was even better than he had imagined, and her scent inebriated him. He kissed her deeper, then lowered his hands and seized her hips, crushing her against his body.

Dora felt his excitement clearly against her belly and gasped; she swayed her pelvis in a provocative movement that left no doubt about her purposes.

Trevor responded: slipping his hands on her rear roundness, he grasped and lifted her. Dora responded in turn, raising her knees and hooking her ankles behind his waist. He moved and carried her a few paces to the couch, where he sat with her straddling him.

Their kisses became more and more fiery, their breaths more laboured, while their hearts thumped wildly. Trevor slid his hand under Dora’s shirt, then under her vest; he skated up her back, caressing her warm skin, his fingers brushing her spine, and glided down her sides, following the enticing hourglass-shaped curve of her body.

Dora moved away from his lips and drew back; before he could complain, she got rid of her necklace, grabbed the hem of her shirt and took it off along with her vest, revealing a simple bra in white cotton. Then she seized Trevor’s polo shirt and slipped it out his pants; quickly accepting her prompt, he sat up straighter and helped her get it out of their way alongside the underlying brushed t-shirt.

Dora placed her hands on his chest, covered with the right quantity of hair; touching him lightly, she outlined his muscles, tracing a spiral-shaped line, tighter and tighter, until she reached his nipples.

In response, Trevor contracted his hands around her slender waist and uttered a sigh, showing her his delight; encouraged, Dora bent down and placed a kiss on the side of his neck, right under the line of his beard. Then she went on, brushing his skin with her lips and nibbling at it, sinking toward his torso, where she repeated the pattern her fingers had followed earlier.  

Trevor’s pants grew steadily; when Dora sensually caressed him one nipple with the tip of her tongue, he caught his breath. He passed one hand around her back and unhooked her bra, willing to reciprocate her exciting ministrations. She moved to help him and then sat upright, lifting her hair behind her head and arching backwards, in a movement that completely exposed her bust to Trevor’s sight and touch. The invitation was irresistible and Trevor cupped her breasts with his large hands, then he bent forward and took one taut apex into his mouth, brushing it with lips and tongue, while caressing the other one with his fingers. Dora uttered a moan, whilst waves of pleasure radiated out from the tip of her breasts to the centre of her body. She shuddered, breathless.

Trevor felt her tremble.

“Are you cold?”, he asked her under his breath, worried; of course she was, he chastised himself, what an idiotic question: outside they had freezing temperatures and the stove had started less than half an hour ago… but she shook her head.

“Quite the opposite”, she assured him; it was true: under his gaze, in his arms, she felt as if catching fire. The room could be a refrigerator and she would still feel hot. If she was trembling, it was out of excitation and expectation, not of cold.

Trevor nodded, accepting her reassurance; he drew back, lifted his eyes to hers and then, their gazes locked, slowly turned her down on the couch pillows, laying on top of her.

“You’re so beautiful, Dora…”, he murmured, “So sweet…”

His almost reverent tone caused a lump in her throat.

“Trevor…”, she whispered in an unsteady voice. She cupped his face and drew him to her, seeking his lips; they kissed fervently.

When he left Dora’s mouth, Trevor moved downward and caressed with feathery kisses her throat, then her chest; he rained tiny kisses on her breasts, then he continued his descending path, nipping her soft belly until the waistband of her pants prevented him going on. At this point, he rose, drawing back toward the bottom of the couch, where he took off her shoes; feeling that one foot was cold and damp, where snow had trespassed, he took it in his hands and rubbed it to warm it up. Pleasantly surprised by this considerate gesture, Dora smiled at him, grateful; then she unbuttoned her pants and unzipped its fly, beginning to pull them down from her hips, uncovering simple panties of white cotton matching her bra. Trevor let go of her foot and helped her, lowering her wide palazzo pants along her legs; under them, she wore crotch-high, black microfiber hold-up stockings, simple and practical like everything else of her underwear, but nonetheless intriguing. One by one, he took them off, until only one piece of undergarment remained to preserve her modesty. He looked at her with open admiration, his eyes travelling up and down her half-naked body; his heated gaze inflamed her as much as the most sensual of caresses.

Trevor unbuckled his belt; he fished something from one of the pockets, then he dropped his pants, his brief-boxers followed, and finally he stood there, completely naked. Dora held her breath staring at his chiselled physique: he was nothing short than _magnificent_.

Trevor was used to female admiration – and sometime to male admiration, too – and therefore he didn’t get excited easily; but the appreciative gaze Dora was addressing him turned him on in an incredible way and he felt his manhood getting even harder, to the point it was almost painful. If he didn’t find release soon, he was sure he was going to burst; but he wouldn’t allow it to himself, not without taking Dora with him on the highest peaks of pleasure.

Dora saw him ripping open the small package he had taken from the pocket and suddenly she realised it was a condom. The thought struck her hard that the protection issue never crossed her mind: longing had totally fogged her mind. It had never happened before in all her life, and this made her realise how vulnerable she was. For a moment, she panicked; but the fact that Trevor, instead, had given thought to it and that he probably walked around all the time with a condom in his pocket precisely to prevent potentially dangerous situations, made her realise how much reliable he was, highlighting he didn’t reason only with his reproductive organ but also with his brains, and this reassured her.

Trevor prepared himself, then he got back devoting himself to the woman laying on the couch. He bent down on her and slowly took off the last garment separating them; Dora wriggled to help him and stretched out her arms to him, inviting him to lay on top of her, but Trevor shook his head. He placed one hand on her ankle, sliding lightly along her calf; he stopped briefly to caress the sensitive area behind her knee, then he travelled up her thigh and hip. With one finger, he traced an arch from hip to navel, then he slipped straight down to the dark curls hiding the most intimate spot of her body, to which she was about to grant him access. Its heat welcomed him even before she would part her thighs to allow him touching her; he was delighted to feel on his fingers the evidence of her yearning for him and he fondled her, slowly, skilfully.

Dora felt a hot flush spreading from her core while he touched her womanhood, and moaned in pleasure.

“My sweet Dora...”, Trevor whispered, thrilled to see and hear her responding so ardently to his ministrations, “I’m so happy you want me... as much as I want you...”

He saw her closing her eyes and heard her moaning again while he continued fondling her; an irresistible desire to savour her most secret taste caught him. He ducked between her legs and replaced his fingers with his lips.

Dora jumped at the new, overwhelming sensation and uttered a muffled cry, a mix of surprise and pleasure. She felt him parting her nether lips, then penetrating her gently; unable to restrain herself, she lifted her pelvis to meet him, oblivious to any sense of modesty or shyness.

“Trevor…!”, she panted, and it sounded like a plea. She yearned to feel him inside of her, sunken in her body, completely hers.

Trevor was in no different condition, longing to complete their joining as much as she was; hearing her calling him in this imploring tone, he drew back, picking up from his lips her delicious taste, then he settled down carefully over her. Their eyes met again.

Dora wrapped him in her arms; she felt him plunging slowly inside of her, his stare never yielding, and sighed both in relief and in pleasure.

When he was fully inside of her, Trevor stayed completely still for some moments, giving their bodies the time getting familiar to one another; then, never taking off his eyes from Dora’s, he began to move, withdrawing and pushing forward again at an initially slow rhythm that, following her response, he gradually increased. He kept spying Dora’s face, trying to make out the signs of a greater enjoyment; when, at a particular movement, a higher moan escaped her lips, he repeated it, several times, anxious to give her all the pleasure he was capable of.

Dora was feeling like overrun by a tide of exquisite sensations, not only physically, but also spiritually, because Trevor seemed to use his body as much as his soul to make love to her. Could it be he reciprocated her feelings? She didn’t dare to hope… no, she really didn’t dare to…

Then she was unable to think anymore, dragged away by waves upon waves of increasingly more intense pleasure, until Trevor made her reach the highest peak; she arched toward him and a cry of astonished delight surged from her throat.

Trevor felt her trembling under and around him; with a long, vibrant groan that joined Dora’s cry, he let himself go and reached her on the top.

The throws of ecstasy took them in a timeless dimension, where instants merged into eternity, their minds clouded, reduced to the sole perception of the two of them, fused in a single being, finally complete and perfect.

They slowly resurfaced to reality, dazed, breathless, fulfilled in both body and soul as it had never occurred them before. Trevor rose his face, which he didn’t even notice he had pressed down on Dora’s neck, and looked at her; she had her eyes closed, but seemed to sense his gaze and fluttered them open, reciprocating it.

“Dora…”, Trevor murmured in an incredulous tone, “Why did I wait so long to come back…?

Dora blinked, while her heart jolted in hope.

“What… do you mean?”, she asked, driving away this hope, frightened by the possibility to see it deceived.

Trevor caressed her brow with his lips.

“I never felt this way with anyone, before you”, he explained.

Dora gulped, still refusing, stubbornly, to hope.

“This way… how?”, she whispered.

“So… complete. So serene. So fulfilled.”

Dora closed her eyes, which were dangerously filling up with tears.

“You don’t… have to say it”, she murmured, “Don’t cheat on me, I beg you. If it’s just sex for you, that’s okay, I accept it…”

“What?”, Trevor cried, dismayed, “You think this… that’s just sex?”, and as she still kept her eyes shut, he exhorted her, “Look at me…”

Dora shook her head, tightening her eyelids trying to hold off the tears that were threatening to burst; therefore, Trevor cupped her face, leaning on his elbows.

“Look at me, please”, he said softly.

Dora stayed still for a long moment; then, with a sigh, she indulged him and stared up, her eyes misty, but managing to keep the tears at bay.

“Nobody forces me to say anything”, Trevor declared, still in a low voice but firmly, “If I’m telling you that you make me feel in a way no one did before you, if I’m telling you that with you I’m serene and fulfilled like never before in my life, I’m telling you the truth. I think you know me well enough to know I’m not the type to fool others. Least of all you, because… I’m in love with you”, he saw her furrowing her brow into a dubious expression, “It’s not something I say easily”, he assured her, “For certain, I never said it with the only purpose to slip into a woman’s bed… or, in our case, on the couch”, he shook his head, “I think I fell in love with you the moment I saw you again. I know it sounds absurd, but…”

Dora placed one finger on his lips, hushing him.

“It’s not absurd”, she said under her breath, “I know, because it happened to me, too…”

Trevor’s face brightened in a dazzling smile; he lowered his head and kissed her lips, once, twice, then he lingered for a deep kiss full of tenderness. Finally, he pulled back.

“I love you, Dora”, he said.

Dora took a breath, struggling to untie the knot tightening her throat, which tried to prevent her from speaking. 

“I love you, Trevor”, she whispered, “Oh gosh, yes, I do love you!”, she added louder.

“I love you!”, Trevor exclaimed in turn, smiling and kissing her over and over, “I love you… I love you… I love you”, he chanted in between one kiss and another. Dora wanted to laugh and cry at the same time, but his kisses prevented her to do so.

They stayed there for a long time, exchanging kisses and caresses while the stove burnt, heating the room, but never as much as they were bathing each other in the warmth of the sentiment joining them.

“Did you know I had a big crush on you, as a teen?”, she asked him at a certain point, under her breath. Trevor drew back to better look at her, his brow furrowed in an expression midway surprise and disbelief.

“Are you serious?”

“Yes… for years. I almost didn’t dare to speak to you or even to look at you, for fear of not being able to conceal it to you. Not even Luke knew about it, only Monica…”

Trevor was speechless: now, finally, he realised why at that time she seemed to him always so elusive. He thought about how their lives would work out if he would have figured out those feelings, but he realised immediately it wouldn’t have mattered, both because she was Luke’s friend and as such it was for him unthinkable to see her in a different way, and because – as most of the boys of his age – he thought only about having fun. He was not mature enough for a serious relationship and he would end up ruining everything and hurting her.

“How much time we lost”, he sighed, “but, as the saying goes, _better late than never_ , however, from now on, I’m not going to waste any more time, not even a minute!”, he promised her, kissing her again fervidly.

Finally, sleep called them, and they realised it was very late.

“I don’t feel like going to sleep in my bed, on my own”, Trevor murmured, reluctant to part from Dora even if only for a few hours.

“Then stay”, she said, with a smile so sweet that he felt like melting on the spot. He adored seeing her smile this way. He wanted to make her smile this way all the rest of his life.

They went upstairs to Dora’s bedroom and laid down side by side; embraced, they slipped into a sweet sleep.

 

 

 

(*) about -12°C; the episode is inspired to an experience that actually occurred to the actor playing Trevor, that is Richard Armitage, while he was shooting _Berlin Station_ in a freezing temperature.

 


	5. Chapter V: Romance

 

Chapter V: Romance

 

Trevor woke slowly up; he felt so much refreshed, as he didn’t in years. Memories of the evening and night before came rushing to his mind, making his soul vibrate.

All of a sudden he realised that his arms were empty and Dora wasn’t at his side. For a moment, he felt like lost and his throat tightened for a sense of loss; but the next moment the gush of the shower in the nearby bathroom reassured him that she hadn’t been a dream, she hadn’t vanished after a single night of passion.

In the indefinite light of the winter morning sipping through the closed curtains, he turned on his back, taking in a great gulp of air as if he was a newborn baby; because that was the way he was feeling, like reborn to new life.

 

And it was all because of Dora.

His throat tightened again, this time not out of affliction but of emotion: never before had he felt like this. It wasn’t just the sense of serenity and fulfilment that being with her gave him, but the feeling that the world was brighter, nicer, with colours more vivid and sounds more pleasant, for the sole reason she existed and did love him.

He got back to crouch under the quilt, facing the bathroom door awaiting for Dora appearing there; some moments later, he realised that, if the sun was up enough that light sipped through the curtains, it had to be at least 8 o’clock and they were therefore late for their trip to the ski resort.

Frankly, he had no desire to go skiing, when he could stay in bed with Dora all day, he thought. He would talk about this with her as soon as she would be back, hoping she would agree; but if she would prefer to keep to their commitment with their friends, he would understand and accept: after all, he, too, was a man who lived up to his word. Ultimately, he had the rest of his life, to be with her.

He thought this would be the most wonderful Christmas ever and smiled.

 

° ° °

 

Under the hot spray of water, Dora finished scrubbing her body with the special glove she used at least once a week, then she washed quickly with her favourite shower gel, which bore a delicate jasmine scent, and rinsed it off; finally, she turned off the water and dried herself in her bathrobe. The whole time, she was thinking about the man laying asleep in her bed; her head still spun because of the incredible joy that had made her heart overflew when Trevor had told her he was in love with her. At once, just like that, the darkness overshadowing her soul had been lifted away, and life, which before seemed her so empty and useless, now smiled at her. She felt like the promises of her adolescence, so cruelly dashed, had come back _en masse_ and were waiting only for her to seize them like ripe fruits. She was aware she was fluctuating on cloud nine and her natural optimism was overtaking her, that reality was less perfect than this and that very soon she had to come back to the real world, but for the moment she pushed those thoughts away, determined to enjoy every bit of this feeling, while it lasted.

She finished drying, then let her unruly curls down – she had tied them on top of her head in order to prevent them getting wet, struggling with the knots that had formed during the night; finally, she got back to her room.

Trevor was laying a little sideways, being a bed of standard size a little too short for him, and turned on his side to face the bathroom door; as soon as he saw her appearing on the threshold, he smiled at her.

“Good morning, a-Dorable”, he welcomed her, a very simple pun, but it stirred up a cloud of butterflies in her stomach. She searched for a proper answer and after some moments, she found it:

“Good morning to you, my Knight in a shining armour.”

She saw him widening his eyes, then taking on a determined expression.

“I’ll be your knight each time you’ll need me slashing someone for you”, he said in a low voice, in such an earnest tone that she understood immediately he was not kidding. This statement arose a lump in her throat: only her father had this role, for her, when she was a child. Growing up, she had learnt to defend herself on her own – even physically, with the practice of aikido – but sometime everybody needs somebody else’s support, she no less than others. However, Harry had never been capable of doing so: if on one hand he never prevented her doing anything, from going out with her female friends for an _only women nigh_ t to change jobs, on the other hand he had never supported her when she would be happy to receive even just a few words of encouragement.

Temporarily speechless, Dora got off her bathrobe and slipped naked under the quilt; she tightly embraced Trevor, who reciprocated her, aware of her emotion and feeling the same. He kissed her hair tenderly, caressing her back in a reassuring gesture; then he cupped her face and looked into her eyes.

 

“I love you, Dora”, he said, “This means that I’ll do anything in my power to help, support, defend, favour, comfort you. I waited so long to meet the woman of my life and I had no idea I knew her since forever... Even if I know it wouldn’t be the same, that I wasn’t ready for this, twenty years ago, I still regret all the time we’ve lost...”

She wrought her arms around his neck.

“No regrets”, she whispered, “You cannot change the past, you cannot know the future; all that really matters is the present. Let’s enjoy every moment, now that we’re together...”

“You’re right”, Trevor murmured; he placed a kiss on her shoulder, then on her neck, followed the line of her jaw and reached her lips, which he kissed tenderly, tasting their softness. He felt them opening under the pressure of his own, then her tongue exploring his mouth in a both tender and exciting way.

When they parted, Dora pushed him on the pillow and laid down on him, her eyes full of enticing promises.

“Last night you showed me your cards”, she said with a naughty smirk, “Now I’ll show you mine...”

A shiver of expectation travelled along all Trevor’s body while he imagined what she had in mind; then he recalled their plans with the Safes.

“Monica and Alex are awaiting us”, he reminded her, not without regret. Dora hesitated, then nodded.

“Darn, your right. I’d hate to screw over them...”, she paused, sighing, and Trevor was already preparing to give up a day of love, when she added, “but I think they’ll understand”, noticing he was looking at her, puzzled, she explained, “I go and take my cellphone from the purse and send a text to Monica, explaining her why we’ll miss our rendezvous. Unless you want to go”, she added, rising one eyebrow with a sceptic air.

In response, Trevor moved and made her feel against her thigh a very eloquent reply.

“Does it look I have any desire to get off this bed?”, he asked in a low and sexy voice. Dora giggled.

“Not at all”, she confirmed, “Give me a minute...”

She got up, slipped again into her bathrobe and ran to the ground floor looking for her purse, which she had left in the hall; then she quickly returned to her room and in bed with Trevor.

 _Today Trevor and I won’t come skiing_ , she began to key in on Whatsapp, then she wondered how to tell Monica the reason; she decided for the straightest way – after all, she had no secrets, with her best friend, _We realised we’re in love and spent the night together; as you can imagine, we prefer spending the day by our own..._

She pressed the enter button, then she silenced the cellphone: she did not intend to let anyone interrupting her while making love to Trevor...

 

° ° °

 

After an exquisite interlude between the sheets, the two lovers got downstairs in the kitchen to prepare some breakfast.

“Would you like some pancakes?”, Trevor asked, “I’m good at cooking them”, he added.

“Gladly”, she accepted. He stirred skilfully the mixture, based on butter, eggs, flour and milk, then he used the non-stick pan Dora had pointed him out and cooked the dish Donald Duck was so fond of; meanwhile, she brewed some coffee, toasted some sliced bread and readied the cereals.

“I’m sorry, no _Chocopops_ ”, Dora informed him; Trevor smiled at her while frying the last pancake:

“I’ll survive... even because I have a mind to try another type of sweets, later...”

“Again?”, she feigned shock, “Maybe I should prepare some _zabaione_ , then”, she added laughing, referring to the typical Italian dessert, very sweet and energy-giving, which her granny Adele taught to her mother, and then her mother to her; seeing him puzzled, she explained, “It’s a kind of custard.”

Trevor’s lips bent into a very naughty grin:

“Better you prepare some for you, too: it’s a long way until tonight...”, then his grin became a grimace, “But before it’s best if I go to the chemist”, at Dora’s quizzical look he explained, “I’m out of condoms. The two I had in my pocket were the last ones.”

“Oh?”, she pretended surprise, “I thought you had always a good store of them, at home...”

“Maybe once, when I was constantly horny!”, he exclaimed, bursting into laughter; then he sobered and, while dishing out the last pancake, he added in a low voice, “Lately I hadn’t a very active sexual life. By my choice”, he clarified, “I was waiting for you.”

Dora felt her heart skipping one beat. She searched Trevor’s eyes, that were the same colour of Norvale’s winter sky, and saw into them honesty, but also vulnerability: he was exposing himself, baring his soul in front of her, perhaps with the fear of being hurt again, but determined to risk. With her. Exactly the way she was afraid of being hurt again, but was determined to get back in the game. With him.

“You’re good at intense statements”, she murmured, “And at speaking for me, too, about I feel… with you”, she added. Trevor placed down the now empty pan and, with to strides of his long legs, he reached her and pulled her into his arms.

“Because we feel the same way”, he whispered, holding her tightly. She returned his embrace, her head on his chest.

They stayed there, holding each other in the middle of the kitchen, for some moments; then Dora rose her head and kissed Trevor’s bearded chin. She had never been particularly fond of bearded men, but on him, it looked fabulous, and besides, it was very soft. With a tingle, she remembered having experienced it on various parts of her body.

“Pancakes are getting cold”, she observed softly.

They breakfasted, then Trevor got out to look for a Sunday-open drugstore that, as he had found out through Google, was located across Norvale. Setting foot outside, he noticed the umbrella Monica had lent them, forgotten on the porch; he picked it up and closed it, planning to give it to Dora as soon as he would be back.

While waiting for him, Dora cleaned up the kitchen, then returned upstairs to check her mobile phone. Monica had answered her message: _I am so very glad for you! Don’t worry about us, enjoy the moment… and don’t poke your nose out of home until Monday morning, is that clear?!!_

Dora chuckled and, in reply, she sent her a couple of emojis, one a face laughing its socks off and a thumbs-up.

Trevor stopped quickly by his place to change; when he returned, it didn’t took long for them before opening the jumbo pack of condoms he had purchased…

 

° ° °

Dora cast a glance to the alarm clock on the nightstand.

“If we want to go to the movie, we should get up now”, she observed, rubbing her nose against Trevor’s neck. He pondered: during the day, they had made use of other two condoms, after the first one, and he was seriously considering the possibility to ask Dora for the famous _zabaione_ she had named in the morning. This, or a break of at least three hours, the time to go and see the movie. Personally, he would prefer the first solution, but he knew how much she was fond of the Star Wars saga.

“Let’s go, then”, he simply said.

“Are you sure?”, Dora enquired, not wanting to displease him. Trevor turned his face to smile at her reassuringly:

“I don’t deny I’d like to stay here with you, but hey, me too, I’m curious to see how the story’s going on”, he reassured her. She drew back and kissed the tip of his nose.

“You’re so sweet”, she declared, “I promise you won’t regret it…”

“This means it’s better if I cancel our reservation at the Mexican?”, Trevor enquired, grinning. Dora dragged herself out of bed.

“Not precisely”, she considered, “Tell them we prefer take away. After all, we skipped lunch…”, she reminded him with a brazen smirk.

The movie left them both perplexed as for some choices of the writers, but all in all satisfied; they stopped briefly at _La Guarida del Pirata_ to take _enchiladas_ stuffed with chicken and vegetables and then got back to Dora’s place. While they were walking up the driveway, for the first time since beginning December Dora thought that her house looked miserable, with no Christmas decorations. If before this reflected her state of mind, saddened and embittered, now it was no longer true.

She made an impromptu decision.

“Trevor”, she said, turning to him, “after dinner, would you help me with my Christmas tree?”

“Of course!”, he answered, genuinely enthusiastic. It would be nice to share with her such an intimate and special moment.

They entered and, after getting off their coats, they headed for the kitchen.

“You know, this year I decided I wouldn’t decorate home, neither inside nor outside”, Dora told him in a low voice, while they were setting for two on the counter where they had breakfasted, “I felt… too lonely, and sad, and I felt like hating Christmas and all the festivities and I couldn’t wait for them to be over…”

Trevor left the tableware alone and went to hug her.

“I feel foolish”, he said, “because I thought the reason was just lack of time, instead you were hurting…”

“You couldn’t know”, she tried to interrupt him.

“Yes, I should, because I knew perfectly you were lonely and sad or, at least, I should have guessed; I let your endless optimism, your beautiful smile deceive me, without thinking that they were hiding your discomfort. I’ve been shallow, and I’m sorry about it.”

Dora laid her head on his shoulder, cherishing the feeling of his arms around her, of the warmth of his body, of the physical and moral support he was offering her.

“It doesn’t matter anymore”, she affirmed, “because it’s over. Now you’re here, in my life. I’m not alone any longer.”

“No, you’re not”, Trevor confirmed, kissing her brow, “Now that I’ve found you, I have no intention to let you go. Sorry baby, you’ll never get rid of me”, he concluded in a jesting way, trying to lighten the mood. He succeeded, because she chuckled:

“What is this, a threat?”

“No, a promise.”

Dora held her breath, sobering; she believed him, however there was an obstacle.

“But your life in in New York”, she objected quietly. He didn’t blink an eye.

“True”, he admitted, “A life that I like no more, and that I can easily give up. I could move permanently here to Norvale”, he considered.

Dora exhaled her breath, which she didn’t even notice having hold again.

“And what would you do, here in Norvale?”, she asked.

“I could model for your atelier”, Trevor joked, making her chuckle, “No, seriously: I could live off the money I earned so far, but I’m not the one who can stay idle. I’ll have to think of another job”, he mused, “For instance, something I’m pondering for some time now, is becoming a photographer. After being in front of a camera, I’d go at the back.” 

Dora straightened to look into his eyes.

“And you would leave the Big Apple to come definitively back here?”, she enquired, “You must think it over carefully, be certain of what you do. This is no decision to make in a haste.”

“I wouldn’t”, Trevor assured her, “I’ve thought about this for months. Coming here to fix up my parents’ house was only the first step, then I was planning to see where to go from here. And I realised where that would be the moment I met you again”, he caressed her cheek, “I told you: I’m not leaving you, never again. I have no more time to waste in a life I’m no longer interested in: fashion shows, photoshoots, commercials don’t represent anymore what I want to do”, he shook his head, “My agent will jump and shout when I’ll announce her I won’t renew the contract with her, but she’ll have to get over it”, he concluded, shrugging, “My defection won’t ruin her for sure: she doesn’t lack of clients.”

“It really looks like you gave it much thought”, Dora observed, a little surprised.

“Yes, I did; but actually, I didn’t take this truly seriously until now… probably because I had no serious reason to do so.”

“And now you have…?

“Surely: I have you.”

Dora made dreamy eyes:

“I thought this would be the most horrible Christmas ever… and now it looks like it’ll be the best one…”

Trevor felt a lump in his throat; he held her tight and kissed her fervently.

They warmed up the enchiladas, then ate them with a light beer; after doing the dishes, they went to the loft to recover the Christmas tree and its ornaments.

“At this point, I’d like to make also the outdoor decoration”, Dora reasoned while they were hanging red and golden balls on the fake fir tree, “but now it’s dark, and during the week I come home and it’s already night…”

 

“I can take care of that”, Trevor offered, “If you have some pictures of the way they’ve been set in the past years, I could match them.”

Dora was speechless.

“You’d truly do this?”, she asked.

“Of course! I’ve got time to do it.”

She threw her arms around him and kissed him heartedly.

“Trevor Knight, you’re the man of my dreams”, she declared, and it wasn’t a rhetorical statement. He laughed:

“Now that’s too much…!”

He took advantage of the situation to stroke her rear, hugged in tight pants the colour of chestnuts.

“Hey!”, she pretended to protest, and in retaliation she did the same, passing her hand on his butt, which filled his jeans so nicely.

“Hey!”, he mimicked her. It was so good laughing and jesting this agreeable way, he thought. He hadn’t done that for a long time.   

They agreed that the next morning Trevor would take the outdoor decorations at home, then he would mount them during the day. Dora found a couple of pictures of her house fully decorated, which she had shot in the past years, and sent them on his cellphone.

When they finished setting the tree, they went to bed, but it was a while before they drifted out to sleep…

 

° ° °

 

“Do you really have to go…?, Trevor complained, pouting like a five-year-old child. Dora kissed his lips before donning her parka; they had already breakfasted and now it was time for her to go to work.

“Yes, I have, and I’m even late”, she declared, “I could get fired”, she winked at him. He laughed:

“Okay, better not taking the risk… Dinner with me, tonight? I’ll cook something delicious for you.”

“I can’t wait”, she replied, putting on her wool cap. Trevor, too, slipped into his anorak, then they exited together, carrying the two boxes with the outdoor decorations for Dora’s house to the entrance of the Knight’s; here they parted with a kiss, then Dora got on her car and left for her atelier, whilst Trevor opened the door and carried in the boxes.

He studied carefully the pictures Dora had sent him and decided to begin mounting the ornaments after 10 o’clock, when the temperature would rise a bit. Meanwhile, he checked on the painting in the fireplace to see if it had dried, as well as the concrete of the new granite slab, then he called the company of the pellet stove; he agreed they would come to install it the following day.

Pleased, he turned on his notebook to glimpse at his e-mails; he found one from Sarah, his agent, informing him the Ferrari USA had got in touch with her for the advertising of their latest car, a commercial that would be released all over the world. Following his instructions, she had answered them he wouldn’t be available for three months and they had told her they would wait, so she was now asking him if he was interested.

Trevor stared at the screen. Until recently, he would be greatly excited about such a proposal: hey, it was the mythical Ferrari! He had possessed two, over the years, with a Porsche in between them, while now, in addition to the SUV he bought for the sole purpose to come to Norvale, he had a Lamborghini. However, today, even if flattered, he didn’t feel any interest. If he needed any more confirmation about the choice to make – if leave definitively his New York life or not – now he had the answer.

He thought that now was as good a time as any to inform Sarah about his decision; but a direct confrontation was preferable to an e-mail.

He activated Skype and called; after a few moments, on the screen appeared his agent’s face, an attractive woman around fifty, with titian-red hair, nicely made up and dressed.

“Hi Trevor”, she greeted him, smiling, “How are you? Didn’t that pretty ass of yours froze yet, there in Lake Placid?”

“Norvale”, he corrected her laughing. Sarah O’Quinn was a very spicy woman, pretending to flirt with all her clients, both male and female, but she had never actually crossed the line. As far as he knew, if she had ever bedded someone, it had always been out of a spontaneous offer and never at her bidding.

“Whatever”, Sarah waved her hand, nonchalantly, “Are you calling me for the Ferrari commercial?”

“Exactly…”

“I think you can ask for a big number”, she considered quickly, smiling, probably already working the maths for her commission, “Hell, if they’re willing to wait for you, they want precisely you, and to have you they’re surely willing to pay a lot of money…”, she paused because Trevor was shaking his head, “What?”, she asked, frowning.

“I’m sorry, Sarah”, he said, “I’m not interested.”

“You’re kidding me, right?”, she cried, aghast.

“I’m sorry”, Trevor repeated, “but in these days I came to a decision I postponed for far too long: I retire.”

“What?!”, Sarah shrieked, shocked, “Are you gone nuts?”

“Not at all. I’ve been thinking about this for months.”

“But… why?”, she enquired, “Your career is doing great, all the more now after Hugo Boss!”

“I need a change”, he explained her, “I’m fed up with the fashion and advertising games.”

“Do you want to change field?”, Sarah asked, “Do you want to move into the movie business? I have some connections, in there…”

Again, she paused because Trevor was shaking his head.

“No, I want to really drop everything and devote myself to something entirely different.”

“And what, good heavens? Will you go and teach history?”, she enquired, referring to his almost forgotten degree in archaeology.

“No, I think I’ll set up a business as a photographer here in Norvale.”

“And do you think you’ll make a living out of it?”

Her sceptical tone irritated him:

“I don’t know and I don’t care; I’ve got enough money to live off of it for the rest of my life.”

“Sure, giving up all the comforts you’re used to: your Manhattan penthouse, your expensive cars, the five-star hotels, the luxurious restaurants, the parties… Do you honestly think you can give up all this?

“If you think I can’t, then you don’t know me as well as I thought”, Trevor replied sharply, “The really important things in life are other ones, and here I found one that is worth all: a woman who loves me. Therefore know that, when in six weeks our contract expires, I won’t renew it.”

“A woman? Are you telling me that in ten days you decided to drop everything… for a _woman_?”

Trevor sighed: this was proving more unpleasant than he expected, because he thought Sarah more sympathetic. Apparently, he had been wrong and she cared only about the fact she was losing her golden goose.

“I’d decide to drop everything even without her”, he replied, “Meeting her again did only speed up my decision.”

“Meeting her again? Who is she, an old flame of yours?”

“You can say so, if you wish. Sarah, don’t make things worse, please: we worked well together, we made a good team, but now it’s over. For any problem, please call my attorney, you have his number.”

“Attorney? Yes, I could: because of you, I’m losing a good business opportunity…”

“If you’re referring to the Ferrari commercial, I’ll give you your commission”, he interrupted her, coldly, “I’ll tell Sheldon to do the maths and settle it.”

Sarah gaped.

“You fell really head over heels for this girl”, she grumbled, then, seeing him glowering even more, she hastened to add, “Okay, okay, it’s not for her that you drop everything, or at least, not just for her. No need to bother Sheldon: I’ll suggest someone else in your place, to those Ferrari guys, in the hope they’ll accept the change. I wish you all the luck of the world. But are you sure that this new flame of yours isn’t with you just out of convenience?”

Trevor felt pretty upset: he didn’t recognise his agent anymore. How could he having been so wrong about her?

He hurled her a glance that would pierce the armour of a safe.

“Such a stupid question doesn’t deserve an answer”, he growled. Sarah lifted her hands in a yielding gesture.

“I’m just warning you”, she defended herself.

“You know nothing about Dora, therefore don’t you dare to speak about here ever again”, he warned her in a harsh tone.

At this point, surprisingly, Sarah smiled:

“Yeah, you’re truly crazy about her: I’ve never seen you flaring up like this for a woman. I wanted to make sure you’re not doing this on a whimsical impulse, but at this point, I don’t think so.”

Trevor glared at her, still frowning; then he grinned: he should have known better, Sarah was hyper-protective toward her clients, not just interested in the profits she could have through them.

“You’re insufferable”, he accused her, relieved.

“That’s why I’m the best modelling agent of the Big Apple”, she retorted, “So, you won’t come back to New York, I guess...”

“Well, I must, in order to pick up all my stuff and put on sale my penthouse and the Lamborghini.”

“That one, I’d buy it”, Sarah smirked.

“Okay, then I’ll tell Sheldon to prepare the sale contract.”

“Fine. And listen, I expect to get a wedding invitation.”

“What wedding are you talking about?”

“Obviously yours and of this... Dora, I think?”

Trevor laughed:

“Dora Morgan, yeah. But you’re going too far, we just got together!”

“We’ll see”, she said, brushing away his objection, “I wish you the best, Trevor. But... what a shame for the Ferrari commercial, you’d make a huge success”, she concluded making a face. He shrugged:

“Maybe. Take care of yourself, Sarah.”

“I always do that!”, she grinned, before cutting the connection.

 

° ° °

 

When she got back home, just after 6 o’clock, Dora found her house dark; opening the garage with the remote control to park her car, she thought that probably Trevor hadn’t been able to finish the task or that some lights didn’t work. She was about to close the door, when she heard a creaking of footsteps in the snow and Trevor appeared on the threshold of the garage.

“Hi”, he told her with that little smile of him that, as usual, made her stomach flutter, “I was waiting for you to turn on the lights together.”

“Oh! You managed to mount them all?”

“Sure; I connected them at the external point and tested them, everything’s working perfectly.”

He reached for her and she took his hand; together, they exited the garage and walked away for a dozen yards, in order to have a better general view. Then Trevor pushed the _on_ button on the remote control and the lights turned on. 

Dora felt thrilled and her eyes widened: Trevor did an excellent work. LED-lights decorated the roofline and the corners of the projecting part of the house, other clustered lights adorned the porch, and bright streamers intertwined on the evergreens of the balustrade, while a garland highlighted the upper part of the façade.

 

The Christmas lights were blazing again in her life.

A lump closed her throat, while she remembered that the last times she had seen her house so festooned, her father was still alive.

She turned and threw her arms around Trevor’s neck, kissing him ravenously; he hugged her back and lifted her off her feet, returning her kiss.

“Do you like it?”, he asked when she let go of his lips, allowing him to speak.

“It’s wonderful”, Dora murmured, kissing him again, softly, “Thank you… thank you from the bottom of my heart”, she added in between kisses.

“It was my pleasure”, he assured her, finally placing her back on the ground, “but I can’t take full credit: Alex lent me a hand.”

Dora recalled that her friend told her he would be on leave the week before Christmas and the following one.

She turned again to watch at her house, Trevor’s arm around her shoulders.

“Very handy, having an external point”, he considered. Dora nodded:

“My father got it installed some years ago, so he hadn’t to bring out the wires from inside each time.”

“He had an excellent idea. I’ll copy it for next year.”

“Well, Dora, do you like our job?”, they heard a voice coming from the left; they turned their heads and saw Alex coming towards them.

“Absolutely yes”, she confirmed, “Thanks, ol’ man.”

“I’m glad you decided to mount the lights”, her friend declared, smiling at her, “And… I’m glad for you two”, he added, exchanging a winking glance with Trevor.

“Thanks”, Dora repeated, while Trevor was pulling her closer.

“Well, I go back inside: I’m helping Marissa with a puzzle”, Alex revealed, “Have a nice evening.”

“You too!”, they reciprocated, then Trevor told Dora:

“Better I go back inside, too, or I risk burning dinner.”

“Okay. I go and take a quick shower, then I change and come to your place.”

“I’ll be waiting for you.”

They exchanged a soft kiss, then parted.

Half an hour later, Dora was ringing at Trevor’s door, and he opened immediately.

“Dinner’s almost ready”, he told her, while helping her getting off her anorak.

“Smells good!”, she exclaimed, “What did you cook?”

“Baked salmon on a bed of fennel”, he answered, “seasoned with lemon and parsley. Then I cooked a casserole of artichokes with onion and black olives, and fresh spinach salad seasoned with a yogurt sauce.”

“Sounds delicious, each and every piece”, Dora commented whilst they were entering the kitchen. 

“I hope so: it’s the first time I cook salmon this way”, he revealed, while introducing her into the dining room, where he had set the table in an informal manner, but with a touch of romanticism given by candles. A bottle stood in an ice bucket, and from the flute glasses, Dora guessed it was champagne.

“I apologise for the tableware”, Trevor excused himself, “but I have only this for now; I’ll bring my stuff from New York: among other things I have a lovely Limoges set and Dom Perignon glasses – I grabbed these two at the supermarket.”  

He uncorked quickly the champagne and poured it into the flutes, then he handed one to Dora, who suddenly had turned sober; noticing it, Trevor asked her:

“I something wrong, love?”

“No, but… I was thinking your life here is much less brilliant than in New York. Won’t you miss it?”

Trevor smiled.

“That’s the same question Sarah, my agent, asked me”, he told her, “Today I called her and told her about my intention to move to Norvale permanently. She was flabbergasted, we even had half an argument, but in the end she wished me good luck.”

He rose his glass in a toast and Dora responded clanking softly hers against his; they took a sip.

“Won’t you have any trouble with your job?”, she asked, “Unmet contracts, stuff like that?”

“No, there’s nothing pending; and my contract with Sarah doesn’t automatically renew, so when it expires, in six weeks, I’ll be free and clear.”

During dinner, Trevor informed Dora that the next day they would come and install the pellet stove.

“We’ll have to christen it”, she commented.

“I had the same idea; therefore, you’re invited to dinner tomorrow evening, too.”

“Are you trying to reach my heart through my stomach, my Knight?”, she chuckled, shoving a small piece of the tasty baked salmon in her mouth.

“Absolutely! Everyone knows that the love of a woman passes through her stomach”, he provoked her, making her laugh.

Pouring her the last champagne, standing behind her, Trevor bent down and whispered in her ear:

“I hope you’ll spend the night with me…”

In answer, she grabbed her purse and took out of it a small bag, which she opened to show him its content: a toothbrush and a hairbrush.

Trevor smiled. 

 

° ° °

 

The next day, Dora called her doctor to have a prescription for the pill, a contraceptive method, more practical and safe than condoms, she used for years when she was with Harry. The doctor told her she could go and take her prescription during her lunch break; she did, then she went to the chemist’s and bought two packs. She would begin to take it next week, when she would have her courses.

She used the break also to go and buy the Christmas gift she decided to give to Trevor. She had been racking her brains to find something he would appreciate, considering that he probably had everything he could wish; in the end, she had come up with something useful and funny: a robe in soft chenille with Superman’s symbol on the back. She was sure he would like it.

 

That same evening, she had just returned home and was preparing to take a shower before going to Trevor’s, when she heard the doorbell. The monitor showed her a blonde woman dressed in furs, tall and strikingly beautiful; on principle, she never opened her door to strangers, therefore she asked through the entry phone:

“Who is it?”

“I’m Sylvia Nightingale”, the woman answered icily, “I’m Trevor’s fiancée.”

 


	6. Chapter VI: Confirmations

 

Chapter VI: Confirmations  

 

Dora stood completely still for several seconds.

_Trevor’s fiancée?_

No, she told herself, she _knew_ Trevor: no way wouldn’t he tell her, no way would he say he loved her and bed her without telling her he was engaged.

This chick was surely a mythomaniac.

She opened the door, her face as stormy as a hurricane.

“I don’t believe you”, she said sharply, “Go away, now.”

“You don’t believe me”, the woman laughed, scornfully, “Well, maybe you’ll believe this.”

She rummaged briefly in her purse – which exhibited Gucci’s label – and produced an iPhone full of Swarovski, fumbled a little with it and finally showed her its screen.

Trevor, with no beard, hugging her tightly.

Dora felt a cold spike in her heart, but she knew there was a very simple explanation.

“Because of his job, Trevor hugs many a woman”, she said, shrugging, “A picture like this doesn’t proof a thing.”

Sylvia Nightingale… she had already seen her, she was sure of it.

The blonde beanpole pressed together her lips, carefully made up with a peach-rose lipstick. The fumbled again with her cellphone, then she presented it again to her with another picture, showing her whilst kissing Trevor passionately; he was still clean-shaven.

Dora felt an even colder spike painfully piercing her heart; obstinately, she grabbed on the previous explanation.

“This could be any photoshoot he’d done”, she said, no idea from where the steady voice she was using was coming, while inside she was shaking like a leaf, “You’re a fashion model like Trevor, aren’t you?”

She had finally managed to place her: she was a lingerie model she had seen several times on fashion magazines. Actually, she had disappeared for some time now.

“You’re truly stubborn!”, Sylvia huffed in an arrogant tone, clearly annoyed, “Then look at this!”

She took off her left glove, then almost tore off the ring she was wearing – a simple circlet, maybe silver or maybe steel, adorned with some zircons – and showed her the script engraved on the inner side: _Sylvia and Trevor_ , followed by a date of the previous year.

“The day we got together”, Sylvia announced triumphantly.

This was apparently an irrefutable evidence. Dora felt her head beginning to spin.

“Okay”, she said, struggling for breath, “What do you want?”

“That’s obvious”, the blonde hissed, “I want you to leave him alone!”

“What if he doesn’t want being left alone?”, Dora retorted, taking heart again, “If he cheated on you, he surely had his reasons”, she added venomously. This kind of behaviour wasn’t like her, but Sylvia started this and she was defending herself as best as she could.

“Sure: we had an argument and when this happens, each time he looks for solace in some chick’s arms”, Sylvia said with a malevolent sneer, “but afterwards, he always comes back to me, because he cannot get along without me.”

For an endless minute, Dora felt like frozen. Her brain was on loop and continued going around those words: _he comes back to me_.

_He comes back to me_.

To this tall blonde, so incredibly more beautiful than her.

And younger. Like Harry’s new flame had been.

She breathed in, struggling hard.

Then she breathed in again, and it was easier.

The third time breathing was almost back to normal.

She _knew_ Trevor.

She seized her parka, which she had just hung on the rack, and slipped it on while charging on the porch, forcing the blonde to withdraw quickly or else she would overrun her.

“Why don’t we go and ask him directly?”, Dora challenged Sylvia, slamming the door behind her.

Taken aback, Sylvia hesitated, but Dora didn’t wait for her and stomped toward Trevor’s house. After a few yards, she turned.

“Well, will you move that bony ass of yours or not?”, she mocked her, paraphrasing a famous movie line. (*)

Ferociously goaded, Sylvia moved, running down the steps from the porch – risking breaking her ankle on her high-heeled Fendi boots – and hastened in the wake of Dora’s footprints; she had the unpleasant feeling she had to run after her rival because, again, the latter wasn’t waiting for her, but was already marching on the Knights’ driveway.

Dora rang the doorbell in a frenzy; she was so full of adrenaline that her heart was pumping blood at full speed and for this reason, she felt her head light, as if tipsy. Her breath came short and nervous, signalling her dangerous closeness to a state of blind fury, which only her hard psychophysical training as a martial artist was keeping at bay.

Trevor opened a few moments later.

“Hi! You’re early…”, he began, but was cut short by her dark expression, “What’s up?”

Dora moved aside and pointed with her thumb behind her, to the blonde supermodel, who was awkwardly hobbling up the driveway.

“Sylvia?”, Trevor asked, aghast, “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Exactly what I asked her, me too”, said Dora in a flat voice, “She claims to be your fiancée.”

Trevor’s face became even more astonished. No trace of guilt or embarrassment, which confirmed to Dora he had nothing to hide; that is, unless he was an Oscar actor, without her knowledge.

Sylvia joined them, rather breathless, her appearance not so neat anymore as it had been before, when she was looking almost fake, so much had she been perfect.

“I’m here for you”, she panted, “What other reason should there be?”

Trevor’s expression went from stunned to dark; he opened his mouth to answer back sharply, but changed his mind: he didn’t want making a scene outside, where the whole neighbourhood could see and hear. He moved aside.

“Enter”, he said, “both of you.”

As soon as they came inside, he closed the door; crossing his arms on his chest, he planted himself legs apart in front of Sylvia.

“You’re not welcome”, he declared icily. Dora exulted inside of her, while the blonde stared at him with a wounded expression:

“What do you mean, I’m not welcome? I’m your fiancée!”

Trevor arched his brow.

“My fiancée?”, he repeated, “If I don’t remember wrong, I left you six months ago.”

“You were just confused, you got my intentions wrong.”

“I don’t think so, at all. It took me one year to realise you were interested only in making the most of me for your career, but in the end I woke up.”

“I’m telling you you got it all wrong!”, Sylvia insisted, “And I think you didn’t want to leave me for good, otherwise why would you tell me to keep your ring?”, she observed, waving her left hand under his nose.

“I have no use for that ring”, he retorted, “Should you give it back to me, I would throw it into the shitter”, he concluded, using a deliberately foul language.

Dora was watching intently the two ex-fiancés, passing her gaze from one to the other so to catch their expressions, more revealing than words: Sylvia looked on the verge of a hysteric breakdown, while Trevor, his lips pressed together, was hiding his fury under an appearance of deceiving calmness.

“It’s clear to me that you’re not wanted”, Dora interfered, glaring coldly at her rival.

“Shut up!”, Sylvia hissed. Trevor threw daggers at her.

“You’re no one to tell Dora to shut up in my house”, he growled, “and anyway she’s right: you’re not wanted, here.”

“But I love you!”, Sylvia shrieked, stepping forward. Dora started to move and stand into her way, but Trevor stopped the blonde with a commanding gesture of his hand.

“I doubt it”, he said in an icy tone, “I’ve never been anything else than a facilitation tool for your job.”

“Maybe in the beginning”, she insisted, “but then I realised that...”

“Enough”, he interrupted her, exasperated, “Stop it, you’re making a poor show. I know you haven’t worked at all, after I broke up with you. For your dignity, and mine as well, I advise you to go and never come back.”

“You can’t kick me out like this!”, Sylvia yelled, blanching in her rage.

“Of course he can, and it’s what he’s doing”, Dora growled. Sylvia spun like a viper and attacked her, her hands bent like claws in the attempt to scratch Dora’s face; Trevor sprang forward to intervene, but Dora was quicker: using her experience in aikido, she stepped aside, getting out of the blonde’s trajectory, and pushed her on her back, boosting her momentum. Unsteady on her stiletto heels, Sylvia lost her balance and fell spectacularly with a shout.

Trevor felt the gallant urge to rush to her aid; but she didn’t deserve it, therefore he resisted it and stayed still, and so did Dora.

Prone on the wooden floor, Sylvia twisted to glare at Dora, her face full of hatred:

“I’ll report you!”

“Don’t even try!”, Trevor intervened in a harsh tone, “It’s been you, the one attacking, she merely got out your way and you stumbled.”

“That’s not true, she pushed me!”, the model screeched.

“That’s not what I’m going to tell the police”, Trevor brusquely stated, “And now stand up and get yourself lost.”

Sylvia stayed still for some moments, as if weighing her chances; then she laboriously got to her feet, grabbing her purse in the process, and took a step forward. She jumped melodramatically.

“Ouch, I sprained my ankle!”

Neither Trevor nor Dora believed her in the least.

“I’ll call you a cab, so you can get a ride to the nearest emergency room”, Dora commented, just to avoid any trouble. She received another glare full of hatred. 

“Listen, Sylvia, this is pointless”, Trevor said, “I love Dora”, at this statement, Dora’s heart flew high, “”and me and you are no longer together, do you grasp this? Go find another sucker”, he concluded, pointing to the door with an eloquent gesture.

Again, Sylvia stood still, as if pondering what else she could do or say. She began to move, limping ostentatiously, and Dora thought that maybe it was truly better calling a cab.

“One more thing, before you go away”, Trevor stopped Sylvia, “I want to know how you’ve been able to locate me: except for Sarah, no one knew I’m here.”

Sylvia halted and stared at him with a smug look on her face:

“That old hen refused to tell me where I could find you, so I sent her an e-mail with an attachment containing a malware, which allowed me to spy her e-mails and Skype. This way, when you called her yesterday, naming Norvale and your precious Dora Morgan, I learned everything I needed.”

Trevor was so indignant, he couldn’t even form a sentence.

Dora, too, was speechless, but recovered immediately.

“Well, well: hacking, as well as assault”, she said through clenched teeth, “Count yourself lucky if _we_ don’t report _you_!”

“Yeah”, Trevor reinforced the message, grabbing the doorknob and pulling the door open, “Get out, before we change our mind!”

The blonde’s striking face contorted in a mask of powerless fury; she stuck up her nose in the air, getting all snooty, and stamped to the open door. Dora noticed satisfied that she did limp no more, spectacularly demonstrating she had been shamelessly pretending, earlier.

As soon as she was over the threshold, Trevor closed and double-locked the door, making as much noise as possible, so that the unwelcomed visitor would hear clearly and understand there was no chance to go back, for her.

Through the window, they watched her marching down the plastered driveway and reaching the luxurious black SUV parked in front of the Knights’ house, which earlier Dora had been too upset to notice; she got into the car and two seconds later she was off like a bottle rocket, tires spinning in the snow.

Trevor turned to Dora.

“I’m sorry”, he said, sighing, “I never thought that Sylvia would come to this. We’ve been together for almost one year, but six months ago I put an end to our relationship...”

He paused because Dora had lifted one hand to stop him.

“You were _engaged_?”, she asked in a calm tone. She couldn’t believe that Trevor had been about to marry that asp.

“I never asked her to marry me, if it’s this what you’re asking”, he answered, “That was no true engagement ring, it didn’t represent a formal commitment between us, it was only...”, he shrugged, “I don’t even know how to call it”, he admitted, “It’s been her the one insisting on having it; maybe she hoped I would ask her to marry me, sooner or later, and that could be the first step. I confess I considered the possibility, at the beginning. I was... I thought I was in love and I liked the idea to start a family.”

“You _thought_ you were in love?”, Dora enquired. Trevor nodded:

“Yes, exactly; but now I know I was deluding myself. She seemed in love with me and I... well, I suppose that, as so many forty-year-old males, I was flattered that a woman so much younger was wooing me. I’ve been a sucker, I said it, because what she was really interested in, was making the most of me to have more career opportunities. When I came to grasp it, I broke up with her. It wasn’t painless: it hurts, realising to be delusional, that someone was using you.”   

Dora nodded, understanding his feelings, but Trevor wasn’t finished yet:

“Dora... what I feel for you is completely different. This time I know I’m not deluding myself. I don’t _think_ I’m in love, I _am_ ”, he clasped her hands and brought them to his heart, “I know because I cannot imagine my future without you.”

Dora felt her knees turning to jelly.

“Don’t... Don’t you think it’s too early?”, she asked in an undertone, “We’ve been together for just three days...”

“...but we know each other since forever”, he reminded her, “and we’re both enough old and experienced to know perfectly what we want”, he paused, “Well, I’m quite presumptuous: you could feel otherwise...”, he added, realising he had taken Dora’s feelings for granted.

She flinched as if being slapped.

“Trevor”, she whispered, “I would love nothing more than spend the rest of my life with a man who loves me as much I love him. And I hope with all my heart that this man would be you. It’s only that... I’ve been burned, you know it, and therefore now I don’t feel like rushing headlong in our relationship, hastening things. Let’s wait for them to ripen, grow...  would you?”

“Absolutely”, Trevor nodded, “I’ve never been the rash type and, even if I’m sure about my feelings for you, I have no intention to hustle things. It’s true I said I won’t waste any more time in my life, included our relationship; but this doesn’t mean that tomorrow I’ll dash to the nearest jeweller to buy a ring and propose to you”, he pulled her against his chest, “Let’s build up the foundations; then we’ll proceed from there.”

Dora laid her head on his shoulder, returning his embrace.

“Exactly what I’d like to do, me too”, she declared. He placed a kiss on her dark curls and held her tight, satisfied with the warmth – not only the physical one – of her proximity.

“Hey, do you want to see my new stove?”, he asked her at length, under his breath.

“Certainly”, she immediately accepted, drawing back.

Trevor took her hand and led her in the living room where, into the fireplace, the pellet stove had been installed; a blazing fire could be seen through the transparent door.

 

“Beautiful!”, Dora cried, enthusiastically.

“I’m very happy I followed your advice”, Trevor said; a chirp coming from the kitchen drew his attention there, “The vegetables are ready”, he commented.

“I leave you to your job, chef”, Dora said jestingly, “I go home and take a shower; I’ll be back in about half an hour, okay?”

“Even earlier, if you can.”

“Okay.”

Dora stood on her toes to kiss his lips; then she changed her mind and kissed him properly. Trevor wrapped her in his arms, returning passionately her kiss.

“You’d better go, otherwise I drag you in my room and to hell with dinner”, he grumbled. She laughed and let go of him; with a nod, she exited.

Whilst returning home, Dora was once more struck by the beauty of the lights adorning her house, which turned on and off automatically at dusk, and thought grateful of Trevor and Alex who did the decoration.

On her way back, she kept her eyes out for Sylvia; she had seen her go, but she couldn’t swear she had truly left and wasn’t instead lurking somewhere, waiting for her. She shivered, and not because of the icy temperature, but thinking of all the crimes that newsletters, television and social media constantly reported, talking about people killing for the most futile reasons: a parking space, a seat on the bus, a barking dog, a failure to yield. It wouldn’t be so absurd fearing a treacherous attack form that opportunist, furious at seeing her plots to go back in Trevor’s lap thwarted.

Once in her house, Dora let Mike lock the door and turn the alarm on, which she usually did only when she went to bed or out. She doubted the sophisticated model would pursue a possible revenge for a long time, but tonight and in the following days, Dora would stay prudently alert.

She took a quick shower and donned her underwear; looking into the mirror, she changed her mind and went for a sexier outfit, so she rummaged in the chest of drawers and pulled out black lace lingerie, with matching garters. She slipped her legs into sheer black stockings with back seam, then donned a white low cut sweater and a warm skirt of purple wool; finally, she slipped her feet into stylish ankle-boots, picked up her coat and went to Trevor’s, still looking carefully around; but she saw no trace of Sylvia, nor of her 70-thousand-dollars Range Rover.

 

Trevor opened immediately the door; after helping her out of her parka, he hugged her from behind, crushing her against him.

“I missed you”, he whispered into her hair.

“But I’ve been away for less than half an hour!”, Dora protested, smiling flattered.

“It seemed anyway an endless time to me”, he stated, “I hope you’ll sleep over at my place, tonight”, he added, interlacing his hands with hers.

“If you ask me politely...”, she answered, chuckling. Trevor turned her, cupped her cheeks and kissed her lips, sweetly.

“Will you sleep over at my place, tonight?”, he asked, his low and hoarse voice containing thousand promises; a hot shiver slid down her spine. She clutched at his muscular arms.

“Of course I will…”, she whispered.

After another kiss, Trevor let go of her; looking her from head to toe with apparent appreciation, he told her:

“You’re gorgeous”, seeing her about to protest, he placed one finger on her lips, “and no supermodel is more striking than you, in my eyes.”

Dora, who obviously had just compared herself to Sylvia, literally melted.

“Okay, then... thank you.”

Trevor beamed that heart-pounding smile of him; taking her hand, he led her into the living room, where he had set the table like the night before, even if this time there was no champagne but a bottle of red wine.

“I’m hungry!”, Dora exclaimed, “What did the chef cook, tonight?”, she asked gaily.

“Baked beef roulades, stuffed with grated bread and herbs, coming with grilled aubergines and roasted carrots seasoned with oregano”, he answered, smiling at her eager face, “As a drink, Zinfandel (**).”

“You’re trying _for good_ to get to my heart through my stomach”, Dora laughed, “That’s fine, this means I’ll respond bringing out the big guns: _true_ Italian cuisine, as my granny taught me!”

“I’ve been in Italy a number of times, for my job”, Trevor considered, “and actually, you eat divinely, there. Well, I can’t wait to taste your best culinary delights.”

“Where have you been, exactly?”

“Once in Caserta, for a fashion shoot set into the stunning royal palace (***); and three times in Milan, for fashion shows.”

“Me too, I’ve been in Italy once, as a prize after I graduated”, Dora told him while sitting, “I was in Alberobello, Apulia, from where my grandparents come, and then in Rome and Florence. I would have liked to see Venice, too, but I postponed it because I thought that, one day, I would go there on honeymoon”, she concluded, shrugging regretfully.

“Perhaps we’ll make this dream of yours come true together”, Trevor whispered her tenderly, and for the nth time that night, she felt her throat tighten.

During dinner, Trevor informed her he had already called Sarah to warn her about the hacking of her computer; the agent hadn’t been nice toward Sylvia.

“She said clearly and simply she would terminate the contract with her and report her”, he concluded.

Dora shook her head:

“Sylvia’s deeds were incredibly stupid”, she considered, “beginning from sending a malware to your agent, then coming here and finally, cherry on top, spilling the beans about her illegal actions like nothing.”

“I think she didn’t even realise she committed something unlawful”, Trevor commented.

“Worse for her, then... Well, one like her makes surely think that a blond woman must perforce be brainless”, Dora sighed; she hated this cliché because her mother had been an attractive blonde woman, but her brains and wits refuted resoundingly that stereotype.

When they finished doing the dishes, Trevor pulled Dora to him and gazed at her intensely.

“Darling”, he said in a low voice, “I’m sorry I have to speak again about Sylvia but... I want to make sure you have absolutely no doubt about my feelings for you.”

“I have none”, she assured him, “I know you’re a smart man, who reasons with his head rather than with his peter, and even if the Blonde Valkyrie is much more beautiful than me, I think you prefer a woman with more brain in her skull than she showed to have herself...”

At the nickname _Blonde Valkyrie_ , Trevor couldn’t help but grin, then he sobered:

“Yes, I try to reason with my brains rather than with my privates, but apparently I failed with her. I wanted to see in her things that weren’t there – sincerity, honestly, love – just because I wanted a deep connection. I yearned to meet the woman of my life and I thought it was her. I really felt like a moron, when I realised she was with me only to use me as a stepping stone for her career.”

“You were no moron”, Dora interrupted him gently, caressing his soft beard with one hand and then brushing his lower lip with her forefinger, “just a human being tired of being lonely. As I was myself... but I had more luck and met an honest man.”

Trevor placed a quick kiss on her fingertip.

“Thank you for your trust; and for your sympathy”, he murmured, “I don’t know for how long I’ll slap myself...”

“No!”, she interrupted him again, more lively, “In this way, you give her power over you, over your soul; she’s not worth it. Forgive yourself for having believed in something you longed for so much, but that wasn’t. As for her, I wish her to be treated the way she treats the others.”

Trevor caressed her back.

“You’re a very wise woman, my love”, he affirmed, “as well as beautiful”, he dropped his gaze to her lips, “and sweet...”, he lowered his head, “and very, very seductive...”

Dore lifted her face to his and closed her eyes; she felt Trevor’s mouth settle on hers, a soft touch as if he wanted to taste her. She tightened her arms around his waist and stroked his lower lip with her tongue, as she did earlier with her finger. She heard him sigh while opening his mouth, ready to welcome her, and Dora deepened the kiss; slowly, sensually their tongues exchanged caresses, sliding on one another, pushing forward and withdrawing in a dance at the same time sweet and exciting that set on fire both their bodies and their souls.

“I want you, Dora”, Trevor whispered when their lips separated, “I want you, only you and no one else...”

“And I want you”, she murmured in return, “and no one else...”

She kissed him again, more passionately, rubbing herself against him in a provocative way; she lowered her hands on his firm buttocks, drawing him to her. Trevor responded kissing her hungrily and holding her tighter, until he felt each soft curve of hers against his own body.

When their lips separated again, their breath was shallow; Dora drew back a little and asked him:

“Would you do something for me?”

“You have me completely in your power, baby”, he declared in a hoarse voice, “What can I do for you? Take out Smaug to give you the Arkenstone?”

Dora burst into laughter; in the previous days, she and Trevor had discovered they shared a passion for another movie saga, besides _Star Wars_ , that is Peter Jackson’s Tolkienian cycle, of which she particularly liked the character of Thorin Oakenshield.

“Nothing so flamboyant”, she answered, “I’d just like you to go in your room, getting undressed and comfortable in bed.”

“Why, where are you going?”, Trevor showed some concern.

“Nowhere, I’ll join you very soon”, she reassured him.

“Okay, but don’t keep me waiting too long”, he pleaded.  

“Okay...”

Trevor parted from her and went upstairs, where he undressed and slipped naked under the quilt, waiting.

Dora let some time pass, then she got rid of her skirt and sweater; keeping them in front of her as a kind of cover or shield, she went upstairs and entered Trevor’s room. Trevor was sitting on the bed with the blankets covering only the lower part of his body; he looked at her, confused. She dropped her clothes, throwing them on an armchair, and placed her hands on her hips, straightening her upper body to allow him getting a good look at her, a tantalizing smile on her lips.

 

Trevor’s face went from confused to surprised, to hungry. His eyes travelled down Dora’s beautiful hour-glass shaped body, lingering with particular appreciation on the generous curve of her breasts, cleverly highlighted by her bra, and on her long, shapely legs.

Flattered by the apparent admiration she could read in Trevor’s gaze, she turned slowly around to show her _B-side_ , too, and she heard him exhale sharply seeing the culottes leaving provocatively bare the lower part of her buttocks; a triumphant smile blossomed on her lips: if she needed any more confirmation he found her attractive and desirable, she just received it.

She turned again to Trevor, who was staring at her eagerly.

“Do you want me having a heart attack?”, he asked her in a low voice, “Please consider I’m a middle-aged man and within the risk range...”

“Middle-aged?”, she chuckled, “You’d never guess, thinking about the energy you show between the sheets...”

She got to the bed on her side, sensually wiggling her hips, while Trevor couldn’t take his eyes off of her. Still ogling him allusively, Dora sat on the edge of the bed and lifted her legs toward him, laying down and propping on her elbows.

“Would you help me with my booties?”, she asked.

“I’d help you with all your garments, if you like”, Trevor replied, winking.

“One step at a time...”, Dora murmured, while Trevor moved to comply; the quilt slipped down, revealing his nakedness, and she enjoyed the sight of his sculpted physique and his apparent arousal. 

Her ankle-boots flew on the floor; Dora straightened her legs on the bed and, smiling, beckoned Trevor to come nearer.

“Now unhook my garter”, she instructed him. He fumbled with the clasps, then, obeying to the unspoken rules of the little game she was leading, he stopped, awaiting further instructions; in succession, he took off her stockings, then everything else. At this point, Dora sat up; placing one hand on his chest, she pushed him on his back, then she straddled him, her feminine warmth pressing against his abdomen.

Looking at her from below, her breasts exposed to his sight and touch, her long curls falling in disarray on her chest and back, Trevor felt his breath stuck in his throat: she was a goddess... his personal goddess of love.

“I love you”, he whispered to her, “Good heavens, how much I love you, Dora...”

Hearing the intensity of his tone, she felt her throat tighten; bending down, she brushed his lips with hers.

“And I love you, Trevor...”

Trevor wrapped his hands around her slender waist, then slipped them up her back and finally he pressed her against his body, placed one hand on her nape and captured her mouth in a searing kiss; she reciprocated it with equal eagerness.

When Trevor let her go, Dora sat up again, propping on his shoulders; slowly, she skimmed across his muscular chest with her nails, then went down to his abdomen, touched lightly his bellybutton, followed the trace of dark hair travelling down towards his groin. To Trevor’s great displeasure, she rose on her knees and moved downwards, momentarily depriving him of her warmth; but a moment later, her fingers closed around the tower of his virility, making him utter a sigh of pleasure whilst she fondled him erotically.

Dora smiled slightly, but she wasn’t satisfied yet; she moved even further down, then she lowered herself and wrapped her lips around him. Trevor trembled, feeling her licking and suckling him; his fingers fisted the sheet under him, his eyes closed irresistibly and his mouth opened on another groan.  

Aware of her power over him, Dora went on torturing him deliciously, spying on his reactions; soon, Trevor felt he couldn’t hold back for long.

“Stop!”, he choked out, imploringly, “Stop, baby...”

He wouldn’t mind for sure _concluding_ like this, but right now he preferred doing so with her, taking her on the top with him. Therefore, as soon as Dora moved away from him, he made her lay atop him and wrapped his arms around her; his eyes staring at hers, he rolled them over until their positions were reversed.

“Now it’s my turn”, he warned her, a naughty grin tugging at one corner of his mouth, “An eye for an eye...”

He subsequently devoted himself to pay homage to her body, kissing and nipping her skin, sucking and licking the most sensible spots; he gently opened up her female casket, preparing her skilfully, until Dora arched herself toward him, moaning, begging him to take her. With one last kiss to the core of her womanliness, engorged with longing, Trevor drew back from her; he quickly donned their protection and, eye to eye with her, he slowly plunged his flesh into hers.

While feeling him filling her, joining their bodies in the love act, Dora sighed; raising her knees, she hooked her ankles behind Trevor’s back, and he sank even deeper inside of her, gasping in pleasure.

“Ah! Dora...”

“Trevor...”, she whispered, dreamily.

Trevor stilled for some moments, lingering in a fervent kiss; then he began to move, and she followed him, entrusting him with the leading of their love dance.

Gradually, pleasure ripened in the depths of their bodies, swelling up like a tsunami approaching the coast, gaining speed and force as it advances, until it beats on the shore, raging and irresistible; at the height, overwhelmed with pleasure, they gasped each other’s names, getting over the boundaries of the world to reach a dimension of delight that, for a long, sublime moment, immersed them in the most perfect feeling of fulfilment.

Slowly, they came back to reality; they looked at each other, almost incredulous, their eyes shining, their lips curving into blissful smiles. They stayed there, exchanging small kisses and caresses, until Trevor had to withdraw and dispose of the condom. Then he took Dora in his arms again, made her lay her head on his shoulder and kissed her brow, tenderly.

“If you’re thinking about a gift for me for Christmas”, he whispered to her, “know I don’t need any, because the most beautiful gift you could give me, is you.”

Dora felt a lump in her throat and had to gulp it before being able to speak.

“Too late”, she informed him, “I already thought about something. No big deal, just a little something: I don’t give any important gifts for Christmas for years, except to my goddaughter.”

“Whoops”, he said, chuckling, “Then I made a mistake, because I’m going to give you a – let’s say – rather prestigious gift. It should arrive tomorrow by courier.”

“So much for telling me I shouldn’t give you any gifts!”, she cried in a fake reprimand, “By courier, no less?!”

“Yes: I wasn’t sure I was going to find what I had in mind here in Norvale, therefore I preferred turning to my favourite shop in New York.”

“As I told you already, you’re completely crazy”, she smiled, rising to kiss him on the tip of his nose, “and I love you for this, too.”

Snuggling under the quilt, they fell asleep, holding each other.

 

 

 

(*) Melanie Griffith in _Working Girl_ , referring to Sigourney Weaver.

(**) Californian red wine, produced with the same grapes as the Apulian _Primitivo_.

(***) Trevor’s interpreter, British actor Richard Armitage, actually visited the royal palace of Caserta, where some scenes of the movie _The Phantom Menace_ of the Star Wars saga are set; he performed a republican pilot.

 

 

 

 


	7. Chapter VII: Christmas surprise

 

Chapter VII: Christmas surprise

 

The last days before Christmas flashed by; on Saturday night, the day before Christmas Eve, Dora cooked for Trevor a typical Apulian specialty called _orecchiette_ , seasoning it with a simple tomato sauce and tasty processed cheese –  as she lacked of the inimitable _cacioricotta_ cheese, nowhere to be found in this part of the world; with it, they drank the same Zinfandel that Trevor had used a few days before, as this kind of wine is produced with the identical grape variety as the famous Apulian wine called _Primitivo_ : being cultivated on a different soil, the outcome is not exactly the same, but it’s as much good. Trevor appreciated greatly her culinary efforts, making her very happy with his compliments; and later, also with his kisses and other ministrations of different kind, which filled the rest of the evening...

In the late morning of Sunday, while Trevor was taking a shower, someone rang the doorbell; looking at the monitor, Dora wasn’t able to identify the male shape that, wrapped up in a hooded parka, was standing in her porch. Clearly not Sylvia the _Blonde Valkyrie_ , but nonetheless, Dora asked through the entry phone:

“Who’s it?”

The answer left her literally breathless:

“Hi Dora, it’s me, Luke, Luke Knight.”

With a stifled cry, Dora opened wide the door; and there he was, in front of her, taking off the hood of his parka, two decades older, but still her beloved childhood and teenage friend, the brother she had never had.

 

“Luke!”, she shrieked, before throwing her arms around his neck and holding him tight with all her strength, her eyes full of tears. Luke returned her embrace, he too moved and his eyes moist: if he ever had wished for a sister, it was Dora. Monica, too, had been a friend, of course, but Dora was particularly dear to him.

After an unending hug, Dora drew back and looked in Luke’s eyes, a blue one shade darker than Trevor’s, and wiped her tears.

“Welcome back home, Luke”, she whispered, then took a deep breath, “Anyway, I’d like to slap you hard!”, she added, more forcefully, planting her hands on her hips, “You go away without a word, you don’t write, you don’t call... and today you show up out of the blue, with no warning whatsoever, trying to give me a heart attack!”

Luke made an apologetic face.

“You’re perfectly right... I wronged you, and Trevor, and all the people who used to love me, too. Will you forgive me?”

“I don’t know: you have much to make up for”, Dora declared, showing a fake scowl, “You’ll begin making up by coming in and telling me everything, down to the tiniest details, where you’ve been and what you did in these twenty years.”

She stepped aside to let him in and Luke took the invitation. She signalled him to hang his quilted jacket on the rack and preceded him to the sitting room, with him looking around to make out the changes that had occurred in the two decades he had been away. The furniture in the living room was different, he noticed immediately, and a stove had been added, emanating a comfortable heat, inimitable by any radiator.

“Nice, I like it”, he stated, looking around appreciatively, “I say this also from a professional point of view: I’m interior decorator.”

“Really?”, Dora asked, surprised, “Didn’t you want to be an architect?”

Luke smiled in a slightly bitter way.

“Interior designer, yeah. I hadn’t the money for studying, therefore I began working, trying to stay into the field. Ultimately, being a decorator isn’t much different, except for the financial reward; but I don’t complain, I got my studio with a partner who is architect and we make enough good money”, he looked at her, “By the way, he’s my life partner, too.”

“I’m happy for you”, Dora replied, sincerely, “but you’d better start from the beginning, and so will I... except for one thing that I have to tell you immediately: for a few days, Trevor and I are together. Now he’s upstairs taking a shower.”

“You... and Trevor?”, Luke smiled, “That was my dream!”, he hugged her exuberantly while she was gaping at him.

“Your _dream_?”, she repeated.

“Sure: my big bro and my best friend! I always thought you’d do a wonderful couple. And anyway, I knew you were completely in love with him...”

“Really?”, Dora felt flabbergasted, “And I was thinking I’d been able to keep it hidden to you!”

“I realised it after some time, but I never commented because I thought that, if you wanted to tell me about it, you would do so. I respected your privacy”, he concluded.

Dora smiled:

“I should’ve known I couldn’t keep from you something like this, you always knew what I was thinking or feeling”, she glanced toward the door, “Better I go upstairs to warn Trevor, or he’ll have a heart attack for good. He even got a private investigator looking for you.”

“Yes, I know, that’s why I’m here: the detective found me and got in touch a few days ago, but I asked him not telling anything to my brother because I wanted to surprise him. Indeed, I went by our house and I didn’t find him, and now I know why”, he concluded, chuckling.

“I’ll try not to spoil the surprise, then”, Dora said, “Take a seat, I’ll be back immediately.”

She went upstairs to her room, where Trevor was dressing.

“We have a visitor”, she announced.

“Really? And who’s it?”

“It’s a surprise, like it’s been for me.”

Trevor made a face, thinking of Sylvia:

“As long as it’s a _nice_ surprise...”

Dora shot him a reassuring smile:

“I think so. I’ll wait for you downstairs with our guest.”

Shortly after, Trevor entered the sitting room; knowing he was coming, Luke was waiting for him standing next to the couch, rather nervous and thrilled. Nervous, because he feared his elder brother righteous ire; thrilled, because seeing him again would make him happy, even if he would receive a huge earful.

As soon as he saw Luke, Trevor froze and stared at him for an endless moment, speechless. Uncertain how to behave, Luke returned his elder brother’s gaze, bated breath.

“Little brother...”, he heard him finally say, his voice cracking; at this point he took one step toward him, opening his arms. Trevor took a step in turn, and a moment later, the two brothers were hugging, laughing and crying.

Sitting on an armchair, Dora witnessed their reunion, feeling deeply moved, her face bathed again in tears of joy.

Trevor drew back and leaned his brow against his brother’s, about 4” shorter than him.

“I should slap you”, he grumbled, gripping his shoulders, “I never heard from you again, why? I defended you, with our parents...”

“Stupid pride”, Luke answered in a low voice, “I wanted to demonstrate that I was worth something, that I could take care of myself, but the more time passed, the more I convinced myself our parents would anyway never accept me, therefore I ended up giving up on contacting them again; as for you, I feared they would convince you rejecting me, I was terrified of a refusal from your part, and therefore I preferred never come back to you... As the years went by, I almost convinced myself I didn’t miss you, or Dora, or the other friends back here in Norvale... Almost. The truth is, I never ceased to be homesick, but I realised it only when Grant Harvey, your private eye, contacted me. When I learnt you hired him to find me because our parents had died and you wanted to share your inheritance with me, I realised I got it all wrong and I began to cry like a baby...”

He paused, sobbing; tears streamed down his cheeks, and Trevor’s eyes were moist again.

“Come, let’s sit down”, Trevor said, feeling his brother trembling; he led him to the couch and sat with him, “Come on, tell me: what did you do in all these years?”

Luke’s narration, and afterwards Trevor and Dora’s, filled the next hours; they grabbed a bite around 1 o’clock, never interrupting their chat.

After his runaway, with the little money of his savings Luke bought a train ticket for Washington, where he had different jobs – delivery boy, fast food cook, valet – until he saved up a little nest egg. After a couple of years, he moved to Miami, where he took classes to become professional interior decorator and then he began to work for a firm producing hotel furniture. A few years later, he met Nick Ramos, the child of Cuban parents, a newly interior designer graduate; the two fell in love and moved in together, and then together they put up an office for deluxe decor, which in a few years became rather well known in the metropolitan area of Miami. In June 2015, after Florida definitely approved the law allowing marriage between same-sex persons, and after 14 years of living together, Luke and Nick got married.

“That’s us on wedding day”, the younger Knight said, showing Trevor and Dora a picture on his cellphone, portraying him with a handsome Hispanic man, both wearing a white jacket and black pants tuxedo.

“You’re both even better than Sean Connery as 007!”, Dora cried, gauging them with the expert eye of a stylist. Luke laughed:

“Thanks! I’ll tell him, he’ll be flattered.”

“Hey, why don’t you tell him to join us here? We could celebrate New Year’s Eve and Day together”, Trevor suggested impulsively, “Except you’ve got other plans, that is.”

“No, we have no other plans, but I must of course ask him”, the younger brother nodded, happy about this suggestion; then he cast a glance at Trevor and subsequently at Dora, “Thank you... I never felt so much accepted, and so quickly, than by you two...”

“Luke!”, Trevor cried in a scolding tone, “You’re my little bro, how could I possibly not accept you?”

“And you’re my dearest friend, how could I possibly not accept you?”, Dora echoed his words, making Luke feel even more moved.

The younger Knight’s narration ended with him the night before, arriving in Burlington and sleeping in a hotel, before starting that very morning for the two-hour-trip to Norvale, on a rented car.

Around 3 o’clock, Dora thought about calling Monica and Alex. She had Mike dialling the number, showing off to Luke another of the domotics which he claimed to be a fan of, both personally and professionally; and also as a Star Trek fan, because – he said – he felt like on the bridge of the _Enterprise_ , the legendary spaceship of that historic science fiction saga.

“Hello Dora”, Monica answered on the third ring, having seen her friend’s name on the display.

“Hi Monica. Are you sitting?”, Dora began.

“No, why?”

“Better you do, because I have a bombshell for you.”

“You and Trevor are getting married?!”, Monica tried to guess.

“Don’t be ridiculous!”, Dora cried, blushing, clearly embarrassed; Trevor smiled at himself and Luke barely stifled a laugh, “No, it’s about someone who came to visit us unannounced. Well, are you sitting?”

“Okay, okay, I’m going to sit… Done, so now tell me what this is all about.”

Dora signalled Luke to speak:

“Hi Monica, I’m Luke.”

On the other side of the line, there was a moment of complete silence.

“ _What_?!”, Monika shrieked, “Are you _kidding_ me?”

“No, I assure you, I’m truly Luke. I’ve arrived this morning, I didn’t find Trevor at home and therefore I came to Dora...”

“And you’re calling me _now_? Wait, I’ll be there in a minute!”

Monica hung up; Dora stood up and headed for the entrance door.

“She’ll be here in two seconds”, she said jestingly; of course it took a little longer, but not that much, and Dora opened wide the door even before Monica would ring the doorbell. The two Knight brothers had stood up in turn and were waiting with Dora in the hall, so Monica was welcomed by all the three of them.

“Luuuke!!!”, she howled, throwing her arms around his neck.

The next half an hour was rather frenzy, with Luke summarizing for Monica what he had already narrated to Trevor and Dora, and Monica commenting and laughing and crying. In the end, Luke was invited at the Safe’s for the Christmas Eve dinner; when he tried to protest, Monica hushed him:

“No way, Dora and your brother are coming, it would make no sense you not doing the same.”

“At you command, ma’am!”, Luke cried, “I didn’t remember you being so bossy”, he added laughing.

When Monica returned home, Trevor thought about the practical aspects of Luke’s stay in Norvale:

“You’ll sleep at home, won’t you? Even because it’s easier finding a needle in a haystack than a room in a neighbouring hotel, by this time of the year...”

“Indeed, I was hoping you’d invite me.”

“That’s your home, too, Luke”, his elder brother reminded him, “Where’s your luggage?”

“Out here, in the car.”

“I hope you brought a jacket: tonight at the Safe’s we won’t be in formal attire, but the event requires some degree of elegance.”

“My outfits for this climate is obviously rather small”, Luke pointed out; in the Miami weather, of course he didn’t need warm clothes, “I have only this pullover and three sweatshirts.”

“I think my father’s size fits you”, Dora intervened, “I go and see what I can find, I’ll borrow it to you gladly.”

She rushed to her parents’ room; from the closet still full of their clothes – so far, she hadn’t had the heart to give them away – she chose a couple of elegant jackets, one a dark shade of grey and the other brown, and brought them to Luke.

“Thank you so much, Dora”, her friend said, while trying them on; he chose the brown one, with a simpler cut, which he could match with his jeans and white pullover he was already wearing.

“Trevor, better you take Luke home, so he can get his bed ready”, Dora suggested, “and freshen up, if he needs to. And while you stay out of the way”, she added, winking to make clear she was joking, “I’ll cook my famous chocolate cake, the one I promised you for Christmas, Trevor, remember?”

“Of course I remember!”

“The one your mother used to cook?”, Luke asked, delighted, “I _never ever_ ate a better chocolate cake than that one!”

“I hope mine is as good as hers, then.”

“I have no doubts about it”, Trevor stated, turning then to his brother, “Dora is an excellent cook.”

“Really? I remember you hated cooking, as a teenager.”

“True enough, but in time I changed my mind.”

“Good for us!”, Luke concluded, grinning in anticipation.

“Fine, then I’ll wait for you to go to Monica and Alex’s.”

The two brothers took their leave; Luke watched fondly and a bit moved Trevor and Dora exchanging a light kiss, then with him he headed for the rented car parked in the street, from which they took the baggage. It had started snowing, in small flakes falling lightly from the sky.

Seeing his elder brother’s dreamy expression – eyes downcast, a slight smile curving his lips while they were walking the driveway – Luke told him:

“You have no idea how much I’m happy you and Dora are in love, Trev. I already told her, now I repeat it to you: it was my dream. I knew she had a crush on you, as a teenager.”

 

Trevor cast him a sideway glance.

“And of course you thought well not telling me”, he commented, “but that’s okay: at that time, I wouldn’t know how to behave. For me Dora, as your friend and the daughter of our neighbours, was off limits”, he shook his head, “They say that it’s better late than never, but nonetheless, deep in my heart I regret the time lost, even if I know it’s perfectly useless”, he opened the door and beamed at his brother, “But I don’t deny I’m fully enjoying the moment.”

“Ha, I have no doubts you’re _enjoying_ it!”, Luke grinned in a cheekily allusive tone. Trevor burst into laughter: he would accept only from him such impudence toward Dora, because he knew Luke felt true affection and respect for her. Would it be someone else, he would give him a black eye.

As soon as they got into the house, Trevor noticed that Luke had sobered; he watched him looking around, searching for familiar things and possible differences. Before he would realise it by himself, he decided to warn him:

“I have to tell you something”, he began, seeking the best words; but there weren’t, so he just settled for the plain truth, “Know that mum and dad removed everything that could remind them of you... There are no pictures, personal belongings or other stuff of yours, in the house.”

The glance Luke gave him back was firm and serene:

“Don’t worry, big bro: their rejection troubled me much for a long time, but finally I came to terms with it. I even accepted the fact that, when they would die, I wouldn’t learn of it and therefore I wouldn’t attend their funeral; but, sincerely, now that it has truly happened, I’m sorry: they were anyway the ones who gave birth to me”, he sighed, “Unfortunately, this is just the way life sometimes goes.”

“You’re right. Me too, I’m sorry I hadn’t the chance to try and reconcile with them; maybe if I did, they would look more favourably on you”, he sighed, echoing his younger brother, “We’ll never know.”

Luke nodded, aware this was something that, unfortunately, they couldn’t change.

“Come, let’s go upstairs”, Trevor invited him; they headed for Luke’s old bedroom. When he bought new double bed sheets to sleep in the bed that had been his parents’, Trevor had purchased also two pairs for single bed – perhaps a premonition, who knows – so now the used one to prepare the bed.

“I feel awkward, being here after so long”, the younger Knight considered in a low voice.

“Me too, I felt the same way for some days”, Trevor revealed, “but then I got over it and now I feel... well, at home”, he concluded with a little smile.

“ _Home_ is where the heart is”, Luke mused, looking at him, “and your heart is surely here in Norvale. With Dora. As mine is in Miami, with Nick.”

Trevor nodded.

“So true, little bro... so true.”

Later, Luke called his husband in Miami and talked him about the welcome he had received from his brother and old friends. Nick was happy to lean this news, and even more he was when he learnt he was invited to join them, because they wanted to meet him; he said he would look for a flight in the days following Christmas and would let him know. Trevor was very pleased to learn this and planned on asking Dora to host him, in order to give the Knight’s house to Luke and Nick during their stay in Norvale, offering them some privacy.

 

°°°

 

“I’m sorry I have no gift for anyone”, Luke sighed while, shortly before 7.30, he and Trevor were exiting their house to go to Dora’s and then with her to the Safe’s; it snowed no more, but perhaps it would again during the night, “I left in a hurry and I had no time to think about it.”

“Are you kidding me?”, his elder brother asked, carrying a plastic bag with the gifts for Dora and the Safes, “No gift could be better than seeing you again, for me and for Dora.”

“For me, too, the best gift I could wish for is being here with you”, Luke assured him with an affectionate beam, “I miss Nick, but I know he’s not alone because he’s staying with his parents these days, until he manages to find a way to come here. But I’d have liked to give you a gift to celebrate our reunion.”

“Even we have no gifts for you”, Trevor pointed out quietly, “but if you insist, Tuesday we can go shopping downtown.”

“We have a deal then!”

They rang at Dora’s doorbell, and she invited them in through the entry phone; Mike opened the door for them and they entered the hall, the door closing behind them.

“It really looks like being inside a Star Trek episode!”, Luke commented, his passion for this saga still strong, as it was for Dora.

She was coming down the stairs and heard him.

“Well, sooner or later I’ll furnish some rooms Star Trek style!”, she announced laughing.

She was in black, wearing a sequined jacket over a low-cut shirt and tight leather pants hugging her beautiful curves.

 

“You’re stunning”, Trevor told her smiling, his eyes full of a kind of admiration that went far over the mere physical appearance and that took her breath away; she returned his gaze with the same intensity.

Luke perceived the emotion passing from one to the other and kept silent in order not to disturb this moment between lovers, looking now at Dora, now at Trevor and feeling happy for the simple fact that two among the people he loved most were happy.

“I never had two escorts on the same date”, Dora declared jestingly, reaching the end of the staircase, “and what’s more, both so _hot_!”

The two Knight brothers burst into laughter at her witty remark, but both were actually flattered about her appreciation.

Dora took her coat, which Trevor helped her donning, then they exited passing through the garage, where she had placed her famous chocolate cake to cool, which had filled the room with its delicious scent. Luke offered to carry it and then they exited, crossing the street with no trouble, as the snowplow of the very efficient Norvale service had already passed, pushing aside the snow that had fallen until two hours ago; shortly after, they rang at the Safe’s doorbell.

Monica was the one who opened and let them in; she wore a dress of a bright red – a colour she loved much and that looked good on her – and received the compliments of both men for her outstanding looks.

Marissa ran to her godmother to get a hug and a kiss, then she turned to Trevor and gave him politely her tiny hand, which he took gently.

“Good evening, Marissa. This is my brother Luke”, he told her, pointing, “Luke, this young lady is Marissa, Dora’s goddaughter.”

The little girl tuned to Luke and looked at him from below; he stretched out his hand to her and she took it.

“You’re beautiful!”, she declared with the candour of her three-and-a-half years.

Luke’s smile widened:

“Thank you, you too!”

Marissa was indeed very pretty in her little dress of teal velvet, decorated with ivory-white lace around the neckline, her black patent leather shoes and her hair up in a ponytail, tied with a ribbon the same colour of the dress.

Alex arrived, wearing a dark suit with a light grey shirt, but no tie as he didn’t want to be too formal; he hugged Dora, then shook hands with Trevor.

“Alex, this is my brother Luke”, the latter said, “Luke, meet Alex Safe, Monica’s husband as well as Marissa’s dad.”

“Nice to meet you, Alex”, Luke said, shaking hands whit him.

“Glad to meet you, finally, after Monica and Dora telling me so much about you.”

“I hope they did it in a positive way!”, Luke cried, feigning concern; the other ones burst into laughter, “Well, what did I say sounding so funny?”, he asked, amused.

“You said the same identical words I said, when Dora introduced me to Alex”, Trevor explained, “And probably I had the same face!”

“Really? Well, not for nothing are we brothers!”, Luke observed laughing, “Who have I to entrust with this?”, he asked, showing the box containing the chocolate cake.

“It’s still warm”, Dora intervened, “I placed it in the garage to cool: maybe you could do the same.”

“Absolutely”, Alex said, taking over the box, “Love, will you take care of the drinks?”

“Okay”, Monica answered, beckoning their guests to follow her into the sitting room, where Marissa was already playing in her corner, careless about her Sunday dress; but after all, it’s absurd asking a child to behave like an adult, therefore Monica didn’t blink an eye.

“Did Alex prepare again his _bomb_?”, Trevor enquired, recalling the previous time; at Luke’s confused glance, he explained, “A rum punch that would knock out a boxer in the first round.”

Monica laughed at the pun involving _punch_ and _boxer_ :

“No, this time it’s a Manhattan (*).”

“It’s not that far, regarding the alcohol”, Dora jested, accepting the glass Monica was handing her, “but I see you gave in to your passion for appetizers”, she added, pointing to the tray full of canapés of various types.

“Luke, if you have any food issues, tell me, so I can act on it”, Monica exhorted him, “Earlier I was too excited to remember asking you.”

“I’m allergic to peppers”, he answered, “and I don’t like game meat, but as for anything else, I eat everything.”

“Especially chocolate!”, Dora laughed, once more remembering the bravados between him and his elder brother.

“Exactly, and indeed, I can’t wait to taste your cake!”, Luke confirmed merrily, “As well as the food _you_ prepared, Monica”, he added, “I smell a delicious aroma: what did you cook?”

“I like experimenting, but for Christmas, I’m quite the traditionalist”, revealed Monica, who shared with her friend Dora a passion for cooking, “therefore we’ll have the classic turkey, but in a lighter version, stuffed with spinach and bacon, and then mashed potatoes and baked pumpkin. And of course, cranberry sauce.”

“My mouth’s already watering!”, Trevor declared, and the other ones nodded showing their agreement.

Alex returned from the garage, where he had left the cake, and joined them.

“To us”, he toasted, raising his glass, “And to friends and brothers who reunited after so long.”

The other four toasted with him, exchanging affectionate glances.

Shortly after, they took their seats at the table, passing one another the dinner plates in an informal manner, taking their own portions. Alex mostly just listened to the four old friends, a little overwhelmed by the number but glad to see their happiness being together, while Marissa kept coaxing with Luke.

“She has taken a fancy to you”, Monica whispered in her old friend’s ear.

“Really?”, he whispered back, his eyes shining with amusement, and she nodded to confirm.

The guests appreciated greatly the delicious turkey, as well as the supple merlot coming with it; Dora’s chocolate cake was the proper conclusion. Marissa smeared half of her face in the enthusiasm of eating it, by the cook’s great satisfaction and the others’ amusement.

Around 10 o’clock, Monica exhorted her child to prepare the stuff for Santa Claus before going to sleep. Marissa took the cookies for him and the carrot for Rudolph the reindeer, placing them next to the door, as well as a mug of milk and a bowl of water; finally, she got back to the table to say goodnight. She placed her arms around her daddy’s neck and smacked a loud kiss on his cheek, then did the same with Dora; when it was Trevor’s turn, she stared at him with a serious face and told him:

“You see, wasn’t I right? You’re Aunt Dora’s fiancé!”

Trevor smiled: this child’s perspicacity was extraordinary, however this time she hadn’t caught him off guard.

“I am _now_ ”, he specified, “but when you told me the first time, I wasn’t.”

Marissa pondered for a moment.

“That means I knew it before you!”, she cried, as it was the most obvious thing in the world and making all gape.

“Apparently, that’s right”, Trevor conceded, laughing.

Satisfied, the girl nodded and bid him goodnight, then repeated it to Luke with an unusual shy face – showing her child-crush on the younger Knight – and finally grasped her mother’s hand, who led her to sleep.

“Guys, what would you say about a Monopoly game, waiting for midnight?”, Alex suggested, being a fan of that nice board game, surely the most famous around the world.

“That’s a good idea!”, Dora accepted immediately.

“It’s been _centuries_ since I played last time”, Trevor confessed, “I don’t even know if I remember the rules…”

“No problem, we’ll help your memory”, Alex assured him, standing up to get the game. 

Waiting for Monica to return, they cleared the table; Alex loaded the dishwasher and turned it on, while Dora prepared the game.

They had much fun in purchasing properties, houses and hotels, and being affected by the Chance and the Community Chest cards, laughing and commenting humorously each roll of the dice. Dora landed in prison a countless number of times, while Trevor got a tax payment so high, he had to mortgage three properties, but soon after he recovered impressively. The first to bankrupt was Luke, followed by Monica and finally by Trevor; shortly before midnight, battle was still on between Dora and Alex, but they decided on leaving it there and declaring the winner who had amassed the greatest wealth; it turned out to be Alex, even if just for a few dollars.

Monica brought in the gifts for Marissa, kept hidden until then, so that the child would find them under the tree next morning, magically fetched by Santa Claus; Dora had already brought hers for her goddaughter – a blackboard on a trestle with both white and coloured chalks – while Trevor added his now, an age appropriate toy-tablet. Monica then carried away cookies, carrot, milk and water.

When midnight stroke, they wished Merry Christmas one another; Luke sent a voice mail via Whatsapp to Nick, including his brother and friend’s voices, and soon after he received a likewise answer from Nick and his parents.

At this point, they began exchanging gifts. Monica and Alex gave Dora a micropile blanket, ultrathin but very warm, with a customary print: spaceship _Enterprise_ from the classic series on a starry background, which made Dora utter a delighted cry. For Trevor, the Safes had chosen the same item, but not having the time anymore for a customary print, they had him a very soft blanket with a funny image of what Monica recalled being his favourite cartoon, that is Taz, the Tasmanian Devil, portrayed with his fiancée. Trevor had a good laugh at seeing it. 

 

To his greatest surprise, even Luke received a gift from the Safes: a bottle of a homemade coffee liqueur that Monica often prepared and of which she had always some in store. Luke protested he had thought of nothing, but Alex and Monica didn’t want have none of him feeling embarrassed and invited him instead to try it, which he did, giving a taste to all of them. Dora of course knew it already, but Trevor didn’t; thinking it excellent, he asked Monica for the recipe.

Then it was Dora’s turn to hand out her gifts; she, too, had had an idea _in tandem_ for her friends and got them two dark-blue wool caps, decorated with white inscriptions _He_ and _She_ just for not mixing them up. Then, she gave Trevor her gift, and when he saw Superman’s robe, he laughed again; he tried it on immediately, then he staged a funny pantomime where he was to take off flying but crashed on the couch, making all laugh their heads off.

Finally, it was Trevor’s turn: on Dora’s suggestion, for the Safes he had bought two pairs of gloves, matching the caps, which they appreciated a lot; then he handed Dora the small packet containing his gift to her. She smiled at him and unwrapped the packet; she immediately noticed the Swarovski swan on the tiny box and hurried to open it, while Trevor was anxiously spying her reaction.

Dora’s eyes widened: it was a stunning pair of earrings, decorated with white crystals, oval-shaped, in the style she liked to wear usually.

 

“They’re fabulous!”, she whispered, charmed; then she pretended getting angry and throwing daggers to Trevor, “Didn’t we agree on avoiding expensive gifts?”

Trevor smiled, unperturbed:

“No, it was _you_ saying you’re used for years giving only small gifts to friends and important ones only to your goddaughter; you didn’t tell me I had to do the same with you.”

His impertinent remark made her laugh and Monica thought it was wonderful seeing her so cheerful and happy because of Trevor. She recalled her purpose to talk to him but, having noticed how he watched her adoringly, how he kept her in his eyes when she moved, how he literally ate out of her hand, she decided it was of no use: Dora could even be starving for love, after so many years spent in almost complete sentimental solitude, and if she fell victim of the wrong man, she risked to lose her head and end up badly; however, Monica knew Trevor, or at least, had known him as an earnest and trustworthy boy, studious without being a bookworm, modest and rather reserved, and she didn’t think the adult man was so much different, except that now he was more self-confident, but still, very far from arrogant. This reassured her: even if in life one can be completely sure of only a very little number of things, she felt she could trust Trevor being truly in love with Dora and therefore he would never willingly hurt her; on the contrary, he would do anything to see her happy. Those earrings, strikingly beautiful and prestigious even if not diamonds, and evidently chosen with a careful eye to Dora’s tastes, were a shining example.

She noticed that Luke, too, was watching intently the two lovers; feeling her gaze, the younger Knight turned and exchanged glances with her. They smiled at each other across the room, telling this way their contentment for those two. 

The guests took their leave around half past midnight; while Monica was reminding Dora coming by with Trevor late next morning – or rather, technically already _this_ morning – to witness Marissa’s opening of their gifts, Luke turned to his brother:

“Come, give me the keys, you’ll sleep over to Dora’s”, he exhorted him under his breath.

Trevor and Dora had indeed planned on spending the night together, but both thought it rude leaving Luke alone, his first night back at home, and therefore they had decided to do without; seeing him hesitant, Luke insisted:

“Come on, you want to spend the night with your girlfriend at Christmas, don’t you? You surely want to give her the _true_ gift you have in mind for her…”, he concluded grinning brazenly.

Trevor shook his head, amused:

“I didn’t remember you were so unashamed, little bro!”

Keeping quiet, but still grinning widely, Luke stretched out his hand and Trevor delivered him the keys to their house.

“But we’ll have breakfast together, okay?”, he said, “We still have so many things to talk about…!”

“Of course, I’ll call you when I get up. If your cellphone is turned off, don’t worry, I’ll understand…”, he added, winking.

A few minutes later, they bid goodnight to the Safes and crossed the street, walking cautiously because it had begun snowing again. However, the road was still clear.

“I hope the weather will leave alone the people in charge of the snowplows, at least this night”, Dora commented while they were getting to the curb, “They’re maybe used to it, but surely they’d prefer staying indoors, warm and cosy!”

“That’s for sure”, Luke agreed, “Good night, and again Merry Christmas, Dora”, he added, hugging her. She hugged him back and smacked a kiss on his cheek.

“Merry Christmas to you, my friend”, she whispered. Then the two brothers hugged one another and finally Luke headed for home.

“Don’t you go with him?”, Dora asked, a little surprised. Trevor shook his head:

“Luke has practically ordered me to sleep over to you.”

She smiled:

“How sweet of him…”

Trevor nodded, agreeing, and snaked one arm around her shoulders, then together they walked up the driveway, heading for the entrance.

Dore raised her gaze to the lights adorning her house. Three weeks ago, she had had no intention to install them, because she felt as if all the light of her life had disappeared, going so far as hating the festivity she always thought to be the most beautiful of the year; but now, with Trevor – her personal Knight – walking at her side, his arm around her during the magic Christmas night, she felt overwhelmed by joy.

“Thank you for returning the Christmas lights to me”, she told him in a low voice.

From her heartfelt tone, Trevor realised she wasn’t talking about something as trivial as the lights shining on her house, which he had installed. He held her tighter.

“Thank you for allowing me to do so”, he whispered back, before kissing her with such a tenderness, Dora felt like melting, her heart full of that feeling, of peace, serenity and complete fulfilment, called happiness; the same happiness that for so long she had thought forever banished from her and that instead had so unexpectedly broken in into her life.

Hand in hand, they arrived to the door and entered into the house.

 

 

THE END

 

(*) cocktail drink with rye whisky and red vermouth, with a hint of angostura.

 

 

A special thanks to Ann Boudreau, Canadian artworker who, on my request, realised the picture portraying Trevor. You can find her and her stunning creations on Facebook and Twitter.

 

(Cast: Sofia Milos as Dora Morgan - Richard Armitage as Trevor Knight - Alyssa Milano as Monica Safe - Hugh Jackman as Alex Safe - Jared Leto as Luke Knight)

 


End file.
